


The hand I can't hold

by ShinMeiko



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinMeiko/pseuds/ShinMeiko
Summary: Will just moved to a new school. Just late enough in the year that people would notice him, just late enough so it would be awkward.Behind, he left Matt, without being able to fix the mess he made first, and he doesn't want to talk about that.Behind, he also left Peter, but he isn't allowed to talk about that.Here, he meets Lena and her purple hair, Austin and his baseball obsession, and Noah with his golden eyes and his three freckles. Here, he could be happy.But this is very confusing when he gets stuck between the joy of falling in love and the pain of knowing that the other boy won't ever let him hold his hand in public.Can you be a shameful little secret and still be happy?
Comments: 42
Kudos: 30





	1. New school

The sky is grey, menacing, and seems ominous. It is the perfect reflection of my feelings. Today is threatening and depressing. I am joining a new school, three weeks in. It is always awkward to be the new kid where everyone already knows each other, but at least, if I had started on the first day, it would have been somewhat lost in the back to school craziness. Three weeks later, however, I could as well have a spotlight directed at me.

My dad had to move for his job, and the entire family was uprooted. There wasn’t any family conversation about it. We were just told. It’s probably for the best. I didn’t have to think about it. I didn’t have to decide if I wanted to stay and face the mess my life had become or if I wanted the fresh start this promotion offered me.

Still. However positive this new beginning can be, it doesn’t make today easier. I enter this unknown building, walking among unfamiliar faces. I know that this will soon be my daily life. I will walk to lessons without having to look around, I will be able to put names to most faces, personalities to some, I will be used to the worn-out paint and the poor attempts at cheerful displays. I might even have friends by then. The knot in my stomach won’t exist anymore.

Right now, it’s there and it’s tenacious. It’s just a new school. I’ve done that before. It’s going to be fine. It’s even a bit ridiculous to be so nervous for so little. I’m not twelve anymore.

I enter the administration building. The receptionist isn’t unpleasant, but she is very robot-like. Certainly made for administration. I state my name, give the paperwork she asks for, sit on the chair she points at and wait.

While I wait, my mind wanders back to my old school. The colorful corridors, the art department, my friends, my favorite teachers… and him. No matter how hard I try not to think about him, my mind always goes back there. To the look on his face that day…

I am brought back to the present by a girl in a dark blue dress, wide happy smile and purple hair. I know nothing about her, but I like her immediately. She seems warm and friendly. Non-judgemental, too.

“Hi, there. Are you Will?”

“I am.”

“Great. I’m Lena. I have been asked to be your guide this week because we pretty much have the same options, so we share most classes. Shall we start with a tour of the school?”

“We shall.”

I don’t know what there is about this girl, but she makes the knot disappear. She is funny and apparently passionate about pretty much everything. She seems to genuinely like her school and that makes me feel better. She asks questions about me too, but I am pretty monosyllabic today.

“Okay, that’s pretty much it for the tour,” she says. “It’s probably a lot to take in, so just ask anything whenever you have a question. And tell me if I’m being annoying, I know I can be a bit much.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m just…” I don’t know how to finish this sentence.

“The new kid?” she offers.

“Something like that,” I concede with a smile.

“I get it. I actually joined six months ago. I guess that’s why they asked me to do this.”

“So we can be outsiders together?”

“Something like that,” she answers, her happy smile still glued to her face. “But in all fairness, people actually accepted me fairly quickly. It’s going to be fine, I promise you. Come on, time for homeroom.”

This morning is everything I thought it would be. Lessons, some interesting, some boring, all awkward because people stare a lot, list of work to catch up on, homework, reminders about the importance of junior year…

In English, I have a hard time staying focused on the Lord of the Flies. I sort of know what the story is about, but I have not read it yet, I was doing Catch 22 at my other school, and it is a bit boring to try to follow the analysis of chapters I haven’t read and characters I don’t know.

Instead, I find myself looking at the guy in front of me. He is probably a bit taller than me, has dark hair and between the line of his hair and his T-shirt, I can see three freckles. That’s not much but that’s not what keeps catching my eye. He is barely taking notes but instead keeps drawing geometrical shapes on his sheet. They seemed pretty random at first, but they slowly start to form a delicate and intricate design. It’s pretty mesmerizing to watch.

I would have liked to get a glance at his face, but Lena is by my desk literally the second after the bell rings to take me to lunch. And by the time I look, he’s already gone. Next time, I guess.

Lena introduces me to her friends at lunch. I’m not going to pretend I remembered every name, but at least I am reducing the list of unfamiliar faces. Also… you know that feeling of meeting new people and thinking that they are nice, but they are not really your crowd? That, eventually, your friends will come from other circles? Well, I don’t get that right now. It feels like these people might be my people at some point.

A boy joins us halfway through lunch. He sits in front of me and he gives me a sense of déjà-vu. My mind doesn’t even try to pinpoint why, though, because I am completely lost in the warmest shade of amber eyes I’ve ever seen. Even beyond the color, there is something in those eyes that bewitches me almost instantly.

Luckily, no one seems to notice and Lena happily introduces us. “Noah, this is Will. He joined today. Will, this is Noah.”

“We’ve met before,” Noah says in a deep, rough, almost broken voice. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered meeting him. “We have English together.” Right. Now I get it. If he turned around, I would see three freckles on the nape of his neck.

“Just because you shared a room doesn’t mean you’ve met,” Lena replies. “He probably has no idea who you are. And Will, don’t get used to him too much, he isn’t the best school attender in the world.”

Noah looks at her like he has no idea why she would share that specific information with a complete stranger and she just shrugs.

The boy next to me, I’m pretty sure his name is Austin, asks me about sports in my old school. I tell him about our always winning basketball team and our absolutely rubbish lacrosse team. He tells me about the teams here and how baseball is the main sport in this school. Go Eagles, I guess.

Throughout this entire conversation, part of my brain stays acutely aware of those outstanding eyes and I can’t seem to be able to shake it off.

After lunch is art. That’s my favorite subject. I am absolutely not interested in becoming an artist or pursuing any kind of career to do with art, but creating still is my happy place.

For the first time today, I don’t feel like I’m desperately trying to catch a train that already left the station. Yes, the other students already started their projects, but it’s just drafts, research, and sketches at this point. I can tell that some people still have no idea what they’re going to do.

This assignment is ‘mise en abyme’ and Lena is already working on really cool designs to do with mirrors.

I get my equipment out and Leah looks surprised. “Charcoal?”

“Yeah… what about it?”

“I don’t know, people tend to use pencils for their first sketches. It’s less messy.”

“Art is messy,” I answer and it makes her laugh.

“Okay, Mr. Tortured Artist.”

It sounded deeper than I meant. The truth is I don’t mind having my hands dirty from drawing. I even feel like the dirtier my hands get the harder I worked.

I like drawing hands, so as a sketch for the assignment, I decide to draw a hand drawing something. I work hard on the hand and the pencil. The shades, the reliefs, the details. Then, less than ten minutes before the end of the period, I start doodling whatever the hand would have been drawing as Lena compliments me on how realistic the hand and pencil look.

“To be fair, I just stayed in my comfort zone. Your idea is way better.”

“You could do something a bit similar. You know, a hand that draws a hand that draws a hand. It would work on the assessment on two different levels. That could be cool. And a bit deeper than geometrical shapes.”

I look down. I have indeed just doodle geometrical shapes. Not just any. The ones Noah drew earlier in English.

I decide not to read anything into it other than the fact that it is a cool pattern.

On my way home – I should really say on my way back; this doesn’t feel like home – I have to be careful about everything and I even turn too soon at some point and almost get lost. The only thing I like better about the suburbs compared to the big city we used to live in is that I now can cycle home. I know everyone my age is so focused on finally getting a car, but I don’t. I like using my bike better even if it takes time and energy. Even if it makes me weird.

“How was your first day of school?” My mother asks as we sit down for dinner. I do understand that school is pretty much my entire life, but I also hate when adults ask me about school. It’s the default question to ask teenagers without having to bother knowing anything about them.

“It was fine.”

“Fine?” My dad repeats. “That’s not an answer, that’s an evasive reply.”

“I met people I still don’t know, I have subjects I had before and I ate a crappy lunch,” I elaborate. “It was fine.”

“Watch your language,” my dad says.

Here is the thing with my dad: we love each other, but I can’t remember any of us showing it ever. We’re not in conflict, either. He is quite strict, but I’m not a troublemaker, so it’s not about that. I guess he is a pragmatist, he likes to be able to put things into boxes, label them and put a number on them. I’m an artist and I find his way of seeing the world boring.

I get on better with my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to draw. But things have been so different lately. For all of us, but especially with her. She doesn’t really speak to me but to say generic stuff – hence the ‘how was school’ comment – and she definitely doesn’t draw anymore. I know exactly what the last thing she drew is, I know where it is, and I sort of want to burn it.

“You look tired,” my mother comments, looking at me with worried eyes.

“I’m fine.” I’m not really, but I’m not tired either, so that’s not really a lie.

“Have you taken your meds?” my dad asks.

“Yes.” No. I don’t take the med. They turn my brain into cotton and I hate it. I’d rather see the world for what it is, the beautiful and the ugly. Sometimes, I think that I’m doing better than they think. Some other times, I think that if they truly thought I wasn’t doing well, they’d put me in therapy, not just medicate me.

I go to bed early. I’m not in the mood for another family TV night where we’re being careful not to discuss what we’re all thinking about.

I didn’t like that atmosphere in my home the past few weeks, it’s even worse now that I’m just in a random house.

I turn to face the wall. The still packed moving boxes sort of creep me out for some reason.

As I am falling asleep, a few images run through my head. The Eagles logo of the school. Lena’s happy face when I met her. Freckles. The art room. Lena’s mirrors. Amber eyes. Austin’s baseball cap. Geometrical figures. Lena’s purple hair. Lena’s smile…

Lena comes back a lot. I think she might be the silver lining I need in all of this. I’m even sort of looking forward to seeing her tomorrow.


	2. New friends

Day number two. It’s already a lot easier than yesterday. The school's façade is still as depressing, but it is not hiding the unknown. I know what the building looks like inside, I know where my locker is, I know where to go.

Not that I need to navigate the corridors anyway because Lena is waiting for me by the entrance, her warm happy smile still on her face. “Are you still on babysitting duty?”

“Yes. Four more days before freedom.” And she fake-rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, you don’t have to do that though,” I offer. “I think I can manage.”

“I really don’t mind,” she replies. “Unless it’s your polite way of asking me to get lost, in which case, I can make myself scarce.”

“No, no. You’re like… the buoy preventing me from drifting away in all of the new stuff thrown at me. Or, you know, something less dramatic. But I don’t want to be a burden.”

She looks at me with an amused smile.”Boy, I really hope you tag along for more than a week. You’re quite entertaining, aren’t you?” She leads me inside and I try not to look too pleased. What she said warmed me up from the inside. I like her, she likes me, I might have made a friend already.

Maybe I’m not just an awkward loser that ruins everything he touches after all. Maybe this place will allow me to reinvent myself and not screw things up this time.

Lena is scavenging through the messiest locker I’ve ever seen, talking about an art exhibit she would like to see in town. It sounds interesting, but I don’t really know if she’s making small talks or if she’s casually inviting me. I don’t know her enough to invite myself.

“So?” she finally asks.

“So, what?”

“Do you want to go?” _Oh._ I guess she was inviting me after all. “You don’t have to,” she adds. “But I thought it might be fun. Plus I wouldn’t really know who else to ask. I’m sure Austin, Noah or Sara would go with me, but they’re not really into art.” I instantly know who Noah is. Probably from his crazy eyes and the creepy staring I did in English. Austin is the baseball guy. I’m not entirely sure who Sara is.

“I’d love to go,” I tell her and the smile that spreads on her face is genuine.

“Oh, William, I’m so glad you joined this school,” she tells me, finally shutting her locker. I’m pretty sure that a couple of things are going to fall from it next time she’ll open that door.

“Thanks. But it’s just Will actually. It’s not that I prefer Will, it’s that it’s literally not short for anything. My mom usually jokes that my dad got too lazy to fill in the paperwork properly.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t let men do important things,” she replies with a wink. I’ve always been a bit awkward socially around new people, so I’m pretty sure it’s a joke, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. I am saved from deciding if I should tease her back by the morning bell. “Okay,” she says with a bit of mischievous smile, “I won’t guide you in any way. Take us to homeroom.”

I can do this.

I think.

Today, I have calculus. I love everything that has to do with math. I wouldn’t say that it is my happy place, but numbers speak to me. I love the logic and the fact that there most often is a correct answer. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I always find it easy, but even when it’s challenging, I thrive in it.

Also, it’s nice to be good at something. Especially something that most people label as impressive, useful or difficult.

When I get in the room, the teacher looks at me with wary eyes. Math teachers always assume that their students are going to be a disappointment for some reason. I don’t worry about it. He’ll love me as soon as I’ll keep handing perfect score papers. I don’t know if the feeling is going to be mutual, though. My previous teacher was a genius and quite a character. I don’t think anyone could compare. We’ll see.

This lunchtime, all of the polite timidity from Lena’s friends is gone, replaced by a pack mentality. I’m not _completely_ new anymore, so their main focus is not to make me feel comfortable and welcome anymore. Their new focus is to know stuff about me.

The questions are pretty basic. What do my parents do, what music I like, if drawing is my only hobby, if I plan on joining the baseball team… But some of those basic questions hide very complicated answers.

_Do I have siblings?_ _No._ that’s the easy answer and that’s technically the truth. So it’s what I say. It’s what they want to hear, too. When there is a real truth instead of an easy one behind a question like that, people don’t actually want to hear it.

_Was it hard to leave your friends?_ _A bit, although we still message and FaceTime_. Again, that’s an elusive answer because I haven’t been in contact with any of my friends since I moved. I especially haven’t talked to my best friend since I’m pretty sure he hates me now. Or, at least, he’s relieved I moved away.

_Did you leave a girl back home?_ _No, I didn’t_. I truly didn’t. I didn’t leave anyone home. They all seem like nice people, but I don’t really know them. I don’t know this school, this community, this city… I don’t know if I could tell them that had I left someone back home, it wouldn’t have been a girl.

English goes a bit better today. I found the book in one of our still unpacked boxes. I obviously didn’t have time to read it, but I went through a few pages and at least now I can follow what the teacher is talking about.

I am however not very focused today. The conversation from lunch keeps spinning in my head, my mind going back and forth between Matt and Peter. I thought moving away would at least help me forget. _Matt_. Or at least put aside. _Peter_. But just because something isn’t a part of your daily life doesn’t mean it just goes away. Actually, it might even linger a bit longer because you can’t get closure.

Whenever I feel like I’m drifting too far down memory lane, I count the freckles on Noah’s neck. One. Two. Three. It works surprisingly well. Then I can focus back on English for some reason.

Noah is doodling again today. It’s not the same pattern as last time and it’s not as mesmerizing but it still catches my eye regularly, especially as my mind is wandering off.

I am brought back to reality when Noah turns around and looks at me with his honey eyes. There is a question in them and I am not sure what it is. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, knowing that I am missing an important piece of context information in order to understand this social interaction. I feel like a complete idiot.

Noah’s eyes light up, and it’s like the sun is going through the honey in his eyes. “You were miles away, weren’t you?” he asks, amused.

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Group work. Do you want to team up?”

“Sure!” Oh, thank God. I don’t have to go through the awkwardness of being the new kid who needs to beg for a work partner.

Lena walks up to my desk but Noah raises his hand to stop her midstep. “Walk away, Purple, he’s mine.” I’ve heard him call her that a few times. There is always a hint of tenderness in his voice when he says it, and it seems like it’s something just between the two of them.

“Excuse me, but he’s mine for four more days.”

“Three and a half, actually, and don’t use that as an excuse because you don’t want to work with one of the nerds.”

The entire thing is a bit surreal. Why, since they clearly share a bond, are they not just partnering up together? It might be because they feel sorry for me, but then why would they (pretend) fight over me? The answer could be that they like me, that they accept me as one of their own, but I somehow can’t wrap my head around that. No one is that friendly.

Or maybe I didn’t know the right kind of people before.

Lena ends up working with Sara – I am finally able to link the name and the face – and Noah turns his chair around so we can work together.

“Just so you know, I’m counting on you,” he tells me. “I haven’t really listened to anything Mt Ellis has been saying for a while. Three chapters at least.”

“I haven’t read the book,” I reply.

Noah’s right eyebrow rises and his smile widens as he asks me: “what are we going to do, then?”

“Wing it?”

And we do. For twenty minutes, we are supposed to analyze a chapter I didn’t read and he didn’t pay attention to. Luckily, combining his recollection of the book and my ability to wring three hundred words essay pretty much out of thin air, we manage to produce something that could pass for serious work.

Noah jokes that we should work together more often and I tell him that I wouldn’t mind. The thing is, I really wouldn’t. He’s fun, witty, happy and I need people like that. Like Noah and Lena. People that can make me forget that I’m mad at the world for not getting things I wasn’t even allowed to want in the first place.

After school, Lena and I go back to the art room to keep working on our projects. When we’re done, I stay with her as she waits for her bus.

“You really don’t have to do that,” she says. You could already be home.

“I don’t particularly want to be home,” I say. Then I realize that it sounds like something dark is happening there, like my parents beat me or something. So, I add: “Nothing is really unpacked yet, we don’t have Internet, and I’m bored most of the time.”

“Why don’t you unpack if you’re bored? Kill two birds with one stone?”

“You sound like my mom. When you’re bored, doing homework or the dishes is not really the kind of activity you’re looking for.”

She laughs. “No, I know that. But unpacking is fun. You get to rediscover parts of your life.”

“I didn’t find a time capsule. I just have stuff that I put myself in these boxes a week ago. It’s hardly an archeological expedition.”

“But it could be!” Then suddenly, she looks super excited. “Oh! Could I come and unpack with you?”

I frown. “Why would you want to do that?”

Someone sits next to me on the bench. I turn around and Noah is there, cigarette in his hand, his usual easy smile on his face. “Why would Purple want to do what?” he asks.

“Why are you still in school?” she asks. “Don’t tell me that you actually went to the library? Or to _homework club_?” She is clearly making fun of him, but his smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Nope. Detention.”

“What for?” she asks casually, as if he gets detention a lot.

“Missed homework.”

“_Again_? Do you ever do any homework?”

“No,” he scoffs. “So… why would you want to do what?”

“Unpack Will’s boxes.”

“He has a point. Why would you want to do that?”

“Oh, come on! Aren’t you curious? Peaking in Will’s stuff, snooping in his life…”

“Now she has a point,” he tells me with a wink.

The next thing I know, We have planned that on Friday, after school, they would come to my house and help me unpack stuff in my bedroom. I even swore that I wouldn’t unpack anything between now and then.

The first thing that crosses my mind is that I was right earlier. I hadn’t met the right people before in my life. These two make me feel like I belong.

The second – and it is so sad in a way – is that it will reassure my parents to see that I made friends.

The third is a quick mental check of what is in those boxes. There can’t be anything too incriminating. My life is desperately uneventful.

Yesterday, I was dreading coming starting in this new school and today, I am looking forward to plans I made with friends. If I focus hard enough, I can manage to only see the good things about moving here. If I focus hard enough, I can believe that I’m happy.


	3. The boxes

On Tuesday nights, my dad is working late, so I wait until Wednesday, at dinner, to ask if I could have friends over on Friday.

My mother smiles happily as if it were the first time I ever made friends. “Of course, you can! Will they be staying over for dinner?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Are all parents that intense, or is it just my mom?

“Your mother and I will both be at work,” my father comments. I know it’s a lie, and I know where they’ll be, but we don’t talk about that either. For a second, I think that my dad is going to ask me to reschedule and have my friends over when there will be some adult supervision. But he surprises me when he continues, “so we trust you to behave sensibly.”

I nod. “Yes, sure.”

My dad smiles. It’s not very wide, it’s a bit rigid, but it’s there. He seems on the verge of saying something, but then he doesn’t. My mother just smiles absently, somewhere deep in her thoughts. I’m not sure she’s truly with us right now. When did we become this? When did my family stop being able to communicate and interact with each other? Is it just because of Peter?

The rest of the week goes pretty smoothly. I am still meeting new teachers and the list of stuff I have to catch up on gets longer, but I am feeling more comfortable with the friends I made and I can’t believe how lucky I got to have met them straight away. It makes everything easier. This place is not home, but I can envision a future where it would be.

On Thursday, Austin asks me about extra-curricular. I tell him that I wasn’t that big on them in my old school and he replies that I need to think about college applications. He tells me that if I find something I am genuinely interested in, it is the easiest way to enhance my resumé with minimum effort.

If any adult had told me that, I would have internally rolled my metaphorical eyes at them. From Austin, however, it sounds like a decent piece of advice.

“How about baseball?” he asks me. “Tryouts will start soon.”

“Nope. No sports. The only time I consider physical activity is in my bed.” Okay. This is NOT what I meant. But Austin and Noah are looking at me with cheeky smiles and I can feel my cheeks burning. I bite my tongue to avoid trying to justify what I just say. It would just be pathetic.

“They don’t offer that in this school,” Noah comments, softly. I don’t even acknowledge that he spoke.

“Fine, no exercise,” Austin grants me. “What then? Not art, you’re already doing it as a subject. It would be redundant. I mean, sure, do it if you want, but you need something else too. Something brainy? How good are you at math?”

“Not good enough to be a mathlete if that’s your question.”

“Alright, then. Chess?”

“I can play checkers.”

“Good luck impressing colleges with that. Spelling bee?”

“We don’t have a spelling bee club, because we’re not twelve years old anymore,” Lena stops him. “Just leave him alone. He’ll find something if he feels like it.”

“Don’t worry,” Austin tells me with a wink. “I’ll keep thinking.” There is something amazing about Austin. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Nothing he does irritates me. Not even a little bit. I find him energizing and charming. Plus, he has these cheeks that get easily pink and I find that adorable.

Friday arrives soon enough. For a second, as we leave the school, I think about canceling. I obviously had friends over before, but it was close friends, in a house I loved, with my then great family. It wasn’t inviting people I met a week ago to go through my life in a house where I don’t know where all the switches are yet, where they might potentially meet my now weird, dysfunctional family.

But then I see Lena and her bright purple hair walking toward me, her usual happy smile brightening her face. I realize that I do want to spend more time with her. I’d rather have her make me laugh than stare at my ceiling and have to deal with my thoughts. I would rather have Noah make fun of the things that I packed than unpack them myself and have to face the memories.

“Hey you,” she tells me as she reaches me. “Do you know what happens now?”

“We go to my house?”

“No, I mean, _right now_.”

“Hum… I’m not sure.”

“I am officially no longer on babysitting duty.”

“Oh. Lucky you!”

“I know. Which means that any hanging out happening from now on is based on friendship. Sorry, Will, you’re one of the cool kids now.”

“I thought the cool kids were the ones who sit on the lunch table by the big window?”

She glares at me but can’t keep a straight face and ends up laughing anyway. “You might have a point. But we like you best.”

“We?”

“Yes ‘we’. All of us. Right, Noah?”

I just then notice that Noah is right behind me. He is on his phone and was apparently not really paying attention to us. “Sure,” he replies with a tone that clearly indicates that he doesn’t know – nor care – what he is replying to. “Whatever you say, Purple.” Then he seems to realize that he was supposed to answer that. “What are we talking about?”

Lena and I exchange a look and laugh. “Never mind, Mr. Popular,” she tells him. “Should we go?”

“Sure. Will, do you want to put your bike in my car?”

“No, I’ll just cycle home. Trust me, I’ll be there before you.”

“Alright, Eddy Merckx. Just give me your address.” I have no idea who Eddy Merckx is but I decide to ignore that and just give him my address. “Cool. See you there in ten.”

I make it home before them. Not that I am particularly fast, but I can cut through the park. It’s a shortcut _and_ I avoid traffic. Noah parks his car in front of the house just as I get out of the garage.

“Nice house,” he comments.

“It’s a one hundred percent ordinary house,” I reply. “Honestly, look down the street and you’ll see that it’s the replica of every single house in this street. This street was built with a photocopy machine.”

“So… you like your new neighborhood, then?” Lena sarcastically summarizes.

I shrug. “I don’t _dislike_ it.”

“But it’s too boring for an artist,” Noah says. His tone is joking but his eyes are serious. This neighborhood is indeed too boring for an artist, but I don’t know that I’m an artist. I’m just a teenager that likes to draw. I’m just being moody for no reason. I shouldn’t go there with my barely-friends around.

I just invite them in. and give them a quick tour of the house before taking them to my room.

“Oh, wow. You really didn’t unpack anything,” Lena comment.

“Dude, hospital rooms are more personalized…” Noah tops.

They might have a point. But Lena being her bubbly self sees the silver lining: “Does that mean we get to decorate the room as well?”

“The two of you can do whatever you want, but I’m not here for feng-shui, I’m just here to go through Will’s stuff.”

Because I’m not a total moron, we start with the least personal boxes. School stuff. Art supplies. That kind of thing. As much as Noah said he was just here to snoop, he does help move furniture around when Lena decides that I needed to get an ‘art studio’ where I have the best light.

My parents left me the bigger room on purpose so I would have my bed, a desk for school and a working station for drawing in my bedroom. I just organized things randomly when we arrived simply based on where the movers did put the bed. But thanks to Lena and Noah I now have three very distinct spaces in my room. It’s perfect and I love it.

Then we start unpacking books, CDs and stuff like that. That feels a bit personal to share, although not too much. It takes ages because Noah reads every single title and some back covers as well. Then we all happily argue about how we should organize my bookshelves. Alphabetical, genre, size, color, author, best to worst… It ends up being a happy chaos. That works for me.

Lena opens another box. It’s my art. The pieces and sketchbooks I decided to keep anyway.

“Can we have a look?” she asks me.

“What are you doing?” Noah interrupts her with outraged eyes. “Don’t ask. Don’t give him a chance to take it back. Just open the box and go through it.”

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him. “Although you have a point. Sorry, Will, I’m going in.”

I love their dynamics. You can tell that there is a strong bond between them that hides behind seemingly shallow banter. It’s the way they look at each other, the way they never take offense for what the other is saying as if they just always get what the other wants to say. I am probably going to make a fool of myself, but I just have to ask: “So… are you two a thing?”

Noah looks at me with genuine surprise on his face, his mouth slightly opened. Lena just bursts out laughing. “Me and her? Why?”

I can feel my face heat up. “I don’t know. You seem very close.”

“Yeah, that’s called friendship.” He looks at me like I’m an idiot and Lena punches his shoulder.

“I think we’re close because we’re not a thing,” she tells me. “He is kind of a player.”

“I am not.”

“Oh yeah? Do you want to talk about homecoming?”

“No, we do not.”

“Although, he does have a girlfriend at the moment,” she tells me. “Let’s see how long this one lasts.”

Noah doesn’t answer anything and I can’t tell if it’s because he is so sure about his current relationship or because he only has a lukewarm interest in the subject.

I look at him and I can definitely see it. These eyes have probably smitten a lot of girls. I can totally see that part. Part of me, for an inexplicable reason, is disappointed that he would be a player. Or, maybe, I am disappointed by something else that I won’t admit.

The two of them take some drawings that they want to put on the wall.

“No,” I say. “I don’t want my art to go on the wall. It’s weird.”

“But your walls are too naked,” Lena says.

“She’s right. It’s very unbecoming of an artist.” It’s that connection again. They just constantly bounce on each other’s sentences. Maybe he should just stop being a player and ask her out. Well… ditch the girlfriend first, obviously.

“Then you guys will have to draw me stuff,” I tell them.

“Really?” Lena looks like her birthday and Christmas just happened.

“Sure. How about you give me your current art project once it’s been graded? The ones with the mirrors. I love it!”

“Deal.”

“You won’t get anything from me, however,” Noah says, “because there is _nothing_ artsy about me.” I think about his doodles and I have to disagree with him. There is _something_ artsy about him. But it would be super weird to ask him for a random doodle, so I abstain. “Anyway. Last box.”

Lena reaches for the box, but I grab it before she can. Panic washes over me. In that box are all the memories I was too sentimental to let go of, but I am not brave enough to face either. If I let Lena open that box, not only will I have to face what’s in there, I will also have to talk about it. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

But I also don’t know how to make them not want to open the last box when it’s literally the only reason they came.


	4. The last box

“Not that box,” I say. I managed to not let any panic transpire in my words and I am quite proud of that. “That’s just junk. You know, things that I didn’t want to throw away but don’t really need to see the sunlight again either.” Okay. Technically I didn’t lie. If I told the truth, the universe will have to be on my side, right?

My heart is beating fast. It’s not really that I don’t want them to know. It’s me. I don’t want to see. And I definitely, _definitely_, don’t want to face that for the first time with people around.

Lena looks at Noah and I have the feeling that she is looking for his approval. As if she doesn’t know what to do, torn between snooping and letting go, and wants him to decide. Oddly, it makes me feel better. I am not the only one who sometimes feels like I’m lost in social situations and I need advice or approval from my peers.

Noah isn’t even looking at the box. “I’m a bit disappointed,” he said. “I thought you would have some dirty little secrets hidden somewhere, but if we’re already looking at your crap, I’m bored. At least we turned your room into something liveable. That’s my good deed of the week, I guess.” There is something in his eyes that’s a bit different from the usual. I mean… I know that I have known him for less than a week, but still… I think that he read the situation perfectly well and that he is letting me keep my privacy rather than doing what he really came here for: being nosey.

I have never been so grateful in my entire life.

I look around. He’s right, actually. This is not perfect yet, but this actually looks like someone’s bedroom. This was the boost I needed.

I push the box back in the closet and say: “Guys, thanks a lot for that. I think I would have postponed for at least another week if you didn’t show up.”

Noah is going through one of my sketchbooks. “Trust me, it’s worth it just to see some of the twisted ideas that came out of your brain,” he replies. I don’t really know what I could reply to that, so I just say: “Should I repay you in junk food? I’m sure we have cookies somewhere.”

“Now you’re talking!” Noah says, standing up. “Consider me un-disappointed!” Lena extends her hand and he helps her up. There was something extremely organic in that interaction and, once more, I can’t help but see the bond between them.

I show them two to the living room and I go get a box of cookies from one of the cupboards. Mom makes a point to have all kinds of food in the cupboards for guests. We used to have to hide the cookies, but we don’t have anyone in the house that likes them anymore, so I am confident I will find some, somewhere.

And without fault, there they are.

When I come back with the snacks, I realize what a bad idea it was to take them to the living room instead of the dining room. Noah is looking at the photos on the chimney, including the one my mom insisted on putting up even though they stab all of us in the heart every day. There has been a big argument between my parents. A fight, even. In the end, they both won – or lost, in my opinion. All the pictures with Peter went, except for the last family portrait we took with him. He looks ridiculously cute, cheeky and dashing at the same time on there.

“I didn’t know you have a little brother,” Noah comments, pointing at Peter. “I was sure you said you don’t have siblings.”

“I don’t,” I reply, blankly.

Lena looks confused and she opens her mouth but Noah looks at her and shakes his head, just once. She closes her mouth and she looks down at her phone. Noah changes the subject, asking where another picture was taken. For the second time today, I am more grateful to him than I could say. He gets _it_, even though he has no idea what _it_ actually is.

I like both of them, and I trust them to some extent. Just not enough to open the Peter chapter.

We sit around the coffee table and start talking about fun things to do in this town at the weekend. It’s a small suburban town, so the list isn’t overwhelming, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.

Lena goes for a second cookie and offers one to Noah before handing me the plate so I can help myself.

“No, thanks. I don’t like cookies.”

“You don’t like cookies,” Lena repeats as if there surely was something she misunderstood in there.

“That’s right.”

“None of them?”

“What do you mean, ‘none of them’?”

“Out of all the cookies that exist in the world, there isn’t one that you like?”

“I don’t dislike them, and if I have to eat one, I’ll do it, but… yeah, no… I don’t like cookies in general.” Her mouth falls slightly open. “I’m sorry. You look like I just offended you.”

“No, it’s just… I don’t believe I can see you in the same way, now…”

“There we go,” Noah says with an exaggerated outraged tone. “Five days of trust down the toilet. For a cookie. How will we ever get passed such treason?” I can’t help but laugh and nor can she.

“Okay, but even you have to admit that it’s weird.”

Noah simply rolls his eyes as to tell her that no one cares who likes cookies or not. “The way I see it,” he tells her, “that’s more cookies for us.”

Lena lets it go and the conversation drifts to other topics. Mainly school. At this point, it’s still our only common ground. Then Noah says: “By the way, I’m busy after school on Wednesday.”

Lena looks at him like he tried to stab her. “Why? What can be more important?”

“Stuff,” he replies evasively.

She rolls her eyes at him and asks me. “You’re coming right?”

“Absolutely! What am I coming to?”

Noah laughs and Lena smiles before answering. “Wednesday are the tryouts for the baseball team. We usually go to support Austin.”

Austin and his ridiculously happy smile when he talks about baseball. I think I’d like to see him play. “Yes, I’ll come to that,” I say.

“Fair warning, it’s boring,” Noah tells me splitting the last cookie in half and giving the bigger piece to Lena.

“It’s a bit boring,” she agrees. “But that’s what friends are for.”

“I’ll be there,” I promise. I only have a lukewarm interest in sports, but she is right. That’s what friends are for and I do want to be friends with them. Besides, Austin has been nothing but welcoming and supportive. I guess spending an hour in the cold is an easy way to give back. Even just a little bit.

They stayed for a while before Noah had to take Lena home. It leaves me with a happy feeling. I had people over. It went well. We made plans for next week – okay, sure, not with Noah, but I already get the sense that Noah is like a cat. He comes and goes as he pleases and people just have to deal with that.

I don’t really know why it amazes me that much that I can make friends. I am not a social butterfly, but I am not particularly shy either. I had a lot of friends before we had to move. Actually, that might be part of the reason why. I had friends _before_ we moved.

The move is not the reason why we are not in contact anymore. In the age of technology, instant messaging and Facetiming, that would be sad. No, I lost most of them before that. I guess in all the mess that happened, they picked Matt. He was the most popular, most loveable one. I was just me and I was also the one at fault.

So, yeah. I guess that’s why it feels like a relief to have been able to make friends so quickly. That’s also probably why I feel so desperate to belong.

I’m still ruminating when I get to my room. It makes it very difficult to ignore the box. It’s too big for the closet, at least the way I hastily put it there, so I can see it peeking out through the ajar door.

It was easier to ignore it when it was just lost in the middle of quite similar boxes. Now it stands out.

After an hour of regular glances in its direction, I decide to be braver than I have been. I postponed unpacking my room for ten days to not have to open that box. It’s ridiculous. I could just move it so it would fit in the closet and let it get lost into oblivion. It’s not what I want, though. If it were, I would have done that immediately.

I drag myself to the closet, pull the box and open it. It feels formal. Not everything in there is bad. I have a lot of memories with my friends that don’t really trigger anything unpleasant. That time we won the state championship for our design project. We got a certificate that my mom had framed even if it wasn’t that fancy. The flyers from the art show I was invited to join and it was sort of a big deal. Tiana had signed me up to that. Polaroid pictures from the road trip we took during Spring Break. An old picture of Matt and me when his dad took us fishing when we were eight…

Memories of my friends that I cherish but that I can’t have in plain sight right now. I can’t tell if I’m more angry or bitter. I could forget the entire thing, every single friend who turned their back on me, if Matt wasn’t one of them. Yes, what happened was unfortunate but I really thought that twelve years of friendship would have been stronger than that. I get that he might have needed time. I game him some. He never came back to me. Even when I left… it would have been the perfect time to bury the hatchet. It’s not like we were likely to ever be in the same room again. We could have parted friendly, if not friends. But he wasn’t interested. I don’t think he even said goodbye.

That just leaves me with a very bitter aftertaste.

I put the picture back in the box and get another one out. It’s Peter. He is smiling – even probably laughing – just before blowing the candles on his birthday cake. Or just after. I’m not sure. They were trick birthday candles who relighted themselves every time he blew them. That made him burst out laughing every single time a flame would reignite. It was the happiest and cutest thing I had ever seen. He was six.

I can feel my mouth spread into a smile and, for a second, I am happy.

Then I remember that Peter isn’t here and that he won’t ever be again. My smile fades and turns into a grimace. I only realize that I’m crying when the first tear hits the picture. I let it fall back in the box. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to keep looking at the pictures. They seem too real. Not like the staged one that my mom was allowed to display because it’s empty of meaning.

I’m an idiot. I will put the box in the cupboard, put a pile of junk on top of it and not face until I absolutely have to.

I can deal with the anger, but I can’t cope with this raw, harrowing pain.

Maybe tonight I’ll take my pills…


	5. Emma

All weekend, I did my best to ignore the damn box. My mother congratulated me for unpacking my stuff. It sounded very patronizing, like I was ten or something, but I tried to keep myself from being upset. If Noah and Lena didn’t invite themselves for an unboxing party, my room would still be the depiction of minimalism.

My dad didn’t say anything. Of course not. To him, it isn’t an accomplishment, it is a problem finally being solved. It’s less irritating, but I still think I prefer my mom’s exaggerated enthusiasm.

On Monday, when I walk into the English classroom, Noah is already there, already looking bored. Somehow, it makes me smile.

He smiles back and winks at me. I know it doesn’t mean anything, it was probably less effort than actually saying ‘hello’, but it still makes me feel funny.

I sit behind him and I have to make an effort to not look at his freckles. I don’t know why I want to look at them so badly. I don’t know why I don’t let myself either. Am I making a thing out of it by trying to not make a thing out of it?

I open my copy of Lord of the Flies and start reading, hoping that it would help me stop thinking. It’s hard to be captivated by a book when you know everything that’s going to happen, though…

Just before lunch, as I am putting a few things in my locker, Austin stops next to me, apparently waiting for me to be done so we can walk to the dining hall together. He has this easy-going smile on his face that makes him so likable. “Hey, you,” he tells me. “Lena told me that you are planning on coming to my tryout.”

“Yes. Wednesday, right?”

“I thought you didn’t like sport?”

“Well… I don’t _dislike _sport, but… it will probably be my first time actively watching baseball.”

“Really? That’s an honor!” He looks genuinely pleased. “But, honestly, even Noah isn’t coming. You really don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” I reply. This is not even a white lie. Okay, truthfully, I really don’t care about the baseball part. But I want to spend time with this new group of friends, and I want to do that for Austin. I can’t just expect them to accept me without me making any sort of effort.

I am comforted in my thought by Austin’s spreading smile. “Why, thank you. It’s going to sound very silly, but I play better when people are there to support me.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” I reply. “I think we’re always our best when we’re not the only ones caring.”

“First Lena, then you… I love when we’re getting new kids!”

I smile back at him. He is a luminous person that just seems to make everything slightly brighter. It’s like he doesn’t even have to try. I need people just like that in my life, right now. People who can cast the darkness away.

There is a new face at lunch today. I have never seen this girl before, but she looks familiar. “Hi,” she tells me as I sit down. “You must be Will. Everyone is talking about you!”

“Are they?”

“Well… small town. You’re the most exciting thing that happened around here in a long time. Anyway. I’m Emma,” she introduces herself.

Emma has long wavy strawberry blond hair, pale green eyes, and is exactly on the line between cute and beautiful. She is the kind of girl you notice. Although she seems to be talking more to the people on the table that I know the least, I am sure that I have not only not seen her at lunch, but anywhere in school.

“We don’t have any classes together?” I ask, not really knowing why I asked such a stupid question.

“We do actually. History.”

“Oh. Sorry, I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“It’s because I wasn’t. I was on the school trip to Peru.”

“Oh, wow. That sounds great. I think the furthest trip that my school organized was to Florida.”

Everyone laughs. They think I’m kidding, but I’m really not. “We have a trip to Peru and one to Europe,” Lena says. “But they only take fifteen students each, so it’s not like we’re drowning under the opportunities either.” I see her point, but… at least they have opportunities. An opening on the rest of the world.

Emma and I talk for a little bit about the trip. I am sure everyone already asked her about Machu Pichu, the food, the people… but she doesn’t seem to mind sharing again. She might be that kind of social butterfly that just knows how to entertain everybody and who doesn’t mind being the center of attention.

“Anyways,” she finally says, “I am just glad that I am back for the tryouts, it’s a tradition.” She winks at Austin and he smiles.

“I need my better half there,” he says.

“Oh. Are the two of you…” I start, but Austin interrupts me.

“Do NOT finish that sentence,” he warns me.

“Twins,” Emma explains, single-wordily.

I can definitely see it now. They have different colored hair and eyes, even their skin tone isn’t exactly the same – even after a trip to Peru she is the fairest one – but there definitely is something. Especially in the nose and cheeks. I guess that’s why she seemed so familiar when I first saw her.

Lena looks at me and says: “So, I’m not the only one. You too think it’s obvious now that you know, right?”

“Yes, I do. Although I don’t think I could have told on my own.”

“Well… when people picture twins, they at least picture the same gender,” Austin explains. “Plus twin births are one in two hundred and fifty, so people rarely jump to that conclusion.”

For a second, I am surprised that he would know the number at the top of his head. Then I realize that it is an incredibly stupid thought. Of course, he would know. When something affects you, you look into it. It becomes one of your specialisms. I know very little about twins or baseball, but I know a lot about family laws and various statistics amongst gay teenagers. Not that I particularly want to share any of these expertises with people from lunch.

Lena and I sort of shut ourselves from the rest of the conversation, discussing our art assignment. I gently remind her that she promised me her final product and she asks me if she could have mine. I try to argue that it would be of lesser quality, but she tells me that we are always harsher judges on our own work.

I end up promising her my work. Somehow, drawing for someone feels more important than drawing for an assessment. As if I need to try twice as hard, now. Although I already had the project before, it now really feels like I have a project. I don’t really know how to explain it…

Austin asks something to Lena and I am left with my thoughts for a few moments. I wonder what happened after Lean and Noah left my house on Friday. Have they discussed the box I wouldn’t open or the picture I wouldn’t explain? Have they simply let it go or have they noticed my discomfort? If so, what did they think about it?

Lena doesn’t seem different today than she was on Friday, so they must not have found me too weird, but still… maybe it was too soon. You don’t test a blossoming friendship. If that’s even what this is. It’s been a week.

Not that time matters. One misstep can cost you the oldest of friends. Maybe friendship is a lie and the best you can get is people you can share a good time with and unpack a few boxes. If that’s the case, I should already be very grateful for what I have. And I am.

Just as I acknowledge that I am so lucky to have formed in a week the best that can be achieved in terms of friendship, Noah appears.

“Hey! Where were you?” Austin asks. Noah just shrugs and everyone seems to get that this is the best answer any of us is going to get. I don’t think he’s being secretive, I think he genuinely doesn’t see any relevance to where he was.

Noah sits down next to Emma and she shifts slightly to put a kiss on his cheek. Oh. She is the famous girlfriend that Lena mentioned on Friday. I have very mixed feelings about this, even if I am not entitled to any…

“What’s that about you not coming on Wednesday?” Emma asks him.

“Yeah, I’m busy.”

“But you’ll come for the first game?” I notice that she didn’t ask him what he would be doing. Is everyone just used to Noah never answering questions about his life outside of school? Because if that’s the case, maybe it’s fine for me to not answer questions either.

“I’ve always been there for the first game,” he replies. It’s a fact more than an answer, but Emma and Austin seem happy with it. They know him better than I do, I guess.

Noah whispers something in Emma’s ear and she chuckles. The two of them then share a look that shows bond, understanding, and intimacy. I take back what I thought before. Noah shouldn’t dump his girlfriend to get with Lena. What he has now seems special. They both seem happy.

I have to be true to myself. If I wanted Noah and Lena to be a thing, it wasn’t for them. It was for me. I needed Noah to be forbidden by more than social conventions. I needed him to be more than straight and taken. I needed him straight and taken by someone I like.

I didn’t care that much that Noah had a girlfriend. I would have cared if that girlfriend was Lena, because I would never have let myself daydream about her boyfriend.

But the reality is just as good. I like Emma. I have seen the two of them together. Surely, that should be enough to kill a vague forming crush I have on a guy just because he is cute and he was nice to me once or twice.

I really want to be Noah’s friend. He’s great. But I don’t like that in less than a week, and without even trying, he wormed his way into my mind.

It has nothing to do with Noah anyway. It’s a promise I made to myself a few months ago, when I understood that coming out in high school just wasn’t worth it: I will not let myself fall, even in the slightest, for any boy before college. Not a gay one, and especially not a straight one…

Austin waves his hand in front of me. “Still with us, Will?”

“Yes, sorry. What did you say?”

“Do you want a cookie?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Noah replies with an amused smile, and Lena looks at me once more like I’m a weirdo.

That night, I still have to actively not think about Noah. More specifically, I have to stop myself thinking about the nape of his neck. How weird is that obsession? More importantly, can you come back from counting someone’s freckles?

On Wednesday morning, the desk in front of me is empty. Noah isn’t in school today. I hate that I notice. I never learn, do I?


	6. The tryout

I thought that supporting Austin for his tryouts just meant showing up. I was wrong. Everyone seems to take it very seriously. At lunch, I notice that I am the only one not wearing the school's colors. Emma even painted her face. I sort of feel out of place.

“Don’t worry,” Austin tells me. “I’ll find you a scarf somewhere.”

“I have another question. If _that_ is what you guys do for tryouts… what do game nights look like?”

“I have no idea,” Austin answers with his usual happy smile. “On game nights, I have my eye on the ball and nothing else.”

“Liar,” Emma comments. “You live for the attention.”

Austin smiles and it looks like he is agreeing with her. I like that he is trying to be modest about it, but that he also acknowledges that he enjoys the attention.

“I’m expecting greatness,” I tell him. “Everyone keeps telling me how good you are.”

“Coach calls me his ‘star player’. But I know how to take it for what it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m high school good. Actually, I’m high school great. But that’s real-world average. I love baseball, but I also know that I’m going to peak in high school. So I’m making the most of it while I can. I’m just lucky enough to have friends who put on a show for me.”

“So you’re not going to carry on at college?”

Austin shrugs. “We’ll see. I really love the game, so if an opportunity arises, I might take it. But I know that college varsity is a lot of work that I might not be willing to put in. So… I keep my options open, but I made my peace with the idea that this is the best I’ll ever get.”

“Then I’ll happily wear the scarf, ”I promise him.

I can tell that people genuinely like Austin. Few people came to watch the tryouts – and I get why, it really is a bit boring and the weather isn’t great – but there is a little group for Austin. Most of the people from lunch and other students I have seen around but don’t know yet.

It starts raining almost immediately after the beginning of the session. It’s a drizzle more than actual rain, but it still says a lot that all of Austin’s friends decide to stay.

“Still no trace of Noah?” Lena asks Emma.

She shakes her head. “He did say he wouldn’t be there.”

“Yes, well… it’s Noah,” Lena replies, her tone clearly indicating that she never takes for granted any plan he makes in advance. I guess I should be flattered that he actually showed up at my… unboxing thing.

“I’m pretty sure that if he showed up to school, you would have seen him before me,” Emma comments.

It’s a weird exchange. I really couldn’t tell if they are both very friendly and if it’s a genuinely nice exchange, or if there is a bit of a power contest under their words. It’s not just right now. Lena has talked to me about Emma before. Not in a mean way, but… I don’t know. It was weird. From what Lena told me, Emma didn’t use to have lunch at that table, she joined when she started dating Noah. She added that it was brave of her to change her habits for something as uncertain as a relationship with Noah. But she also admitted that Noah isn’t an idiot, and that he wouldn’t date Austin’s sister if there weren’t something real and genuine there.

So… yeah, I don’t know if they like each other or not. The best friend and the girlfriend. It’s a weird dynamic, and I get that, but… are they friends trying to adjust to a new dynamic, or are they being friendly because they have people in common when they really don’t care for one another?

Then again… Emma is Austin’s sister and he is the nicest person I’ve ever met. Noah chose her as the girl to ‘settle with’ or whatever, and he is – from what I saw so far – a nice guy too, even if it’s on another register. Just by association, it makes me think that Emma must be someone great as well. I’m probably reading too much into things just because of my disillusions with friendship…

I try to report my attention to Austin, but I don’t really understand what’s happening. I lean closer to Lena. “So… what are the rules?”

“I don’t know. Just clap when everyone else is clapping.”

Everyone laughs. “I can teach you a thing or two,” Emma offers.

“Can you teach me just enough so Austin feels like I know what I’m talking about?” It was a joke, but she delivers beautifully.

Most people leave after they cheered Austin playing. I don’t blame them. The drizzle turned into real rain and even under the covered part of the bleachers, it’s wet and cold. But Lena has to wait for her bus and I am not particularly eager to be home, so we wait for Austin with Emma and another girl called Jen.

I haven’t really talked to Jen, but from the few things I heard her say, I think she might have a crush on Austin.

As much as part of me wishes that the last few months didn’t happen and I was still home with my family as it was and my friends… it is very interesting to join a group of strangers and observe their dynamics. I don’t know Jen, and maybe her crush developed slowly enough that no one noticed. But to me, it’s quite obvious. The way she keeps bringing back the conversation to him, the way she can’t really look away, how she is waiting under the rain for him when she has a car… I mean… sure, it’s Austin’s day – sort of – and I am waiting too, but… I don’t know.

I try to picture her with Austin, but I don’t know any of them well enough to be able to say if it would be a good match. I don’t actually even know if Austin has a girlfriend or not.

Austin joins us with a big smile on his face. “So… are you in the team?” I ask.

He shrugs. “The names come out tomorrow. But I think so. Have you seen me play? I was on fire!”

I congratulate him and use a couple of the sentences Emma taught me. He sees right through me though, and winks at his sister. “Are you trying to turn Will into a sportsperson?”

Emma shrugs. “You managed to get _me_ interested in baseball. So if one of your friends wants to be brainwashed too, I’m happy to spread your weird little cult.”

“I know I’ve said this before,” he tells me, “but I’m very flattered that you’re here and that you’re trying.”

I can physically feel the look that Jen shoots me. Like I took something from her. It annoys me. It’s not like I’m begging for Austin’s attention. I feel sorry for her if he is more interested in the new kid than her, but it’s not exactly my fault.

“So, I want to thank you all for staying in the rain for me. Coffee anyone?”

“My bus will be there in ten minutes,” Lena replies.

“And I was just waiting with her to congratulate you,” I say.

“We can wait for her bus together and you can join us,” he offers.

“No, I should get home, really.” I’m not eager to get home, but I also can’t be late for dinner and I don’t see the point of going with them if I have to leave ten minutes later.

“Something tells me he didn’t stay for you…” So… I just decided I don’t like Jen.

“It makes sense that the two of you get along,” Emma tells us. “You know, being the two newbies.” Her tone is still really nice, but… the feeling I had before, about power moves, comes back.

Austin rolls his eyes at the girls, gives me a look that says ‘just ignore them’.

“I’ll come!” Jen says. It’s a very petty thought, but I find her a bit desperate, now.

Lena’s bus should be there any moment now.

“So… Do we like Jen?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “If by ‘we’, you are asking for my opinion, then I would say that we don’t really have an opinion on Jen.”

“She’s into Austin, right?”

“Oh, yeah. She invited him to the dance last year, very publicly, and he said yes, because he would _never_ humiliate anyone in public, but they didn’t go together… so read in that what you will.”

“And… do we like Emma?”

Lena sighs. “It’s… I don’t dislike Emma. And I don’t think she dislikes me. I just think that she feels forced to be friends with me because of Austin and Noah, and everything feels fake, and I don’t know why. I know she’s nice, I don’t want her boyfriend, I don’t want her brother…”

“So we really are outsiders, huh?”

“It’s a small place. All of them pretty much grew up together. So some of them will always see us as the ‘newbies’, even if we’re still there in twenty years. But most of them aren’t like that… Noah likes you, even if it’s hard to tell with him sometimes. Austin clearly clicked with you instantly for some reason. I think we’ll all become real friends. I mean… you sort of owe us for turning your hospital room into an actual bedroom anyway.”

She nudges me softly with her shoulder. I see her bus coming down the street, and I know there is one last thing that must be said before she goes.

“Lena?”

“Yep?” She picks up her bag.

“What Jen said… I was really here for Austin.”

“I know. Look… I would be flattered to be inside your head, but something tells me that it takes more than that to impress you.”

She seems to genuinely believe that I don’t have a crush on her, which is good, and she doesn’t seem disappointed, which is great. But she’s also wrong. Because someone definitely worked his way through my mind already…

My dad is reading the paper in the living room, like every evening. “Hi, Will. How was school?”

I never know how much information he really wants when he asks me that. “It was fun. I went to the baseball tryouts.”

My dad puts the newspaper down and looks at me a bit taken aback. “You tried out for the baseball team?”

“No, I went to support a friend.”

For a second, I am afraid that my father would be disappointed that I didn’t try out. But he actually looks relieved. I think he would have been sad if he had missed such a change in my life.

“I’m glad that you made friends so quickly.” Me too. I’m amazed, really. “Did he make it to the team? Or she?”

“He. Yes, I think so. Honestly, I didn’t get most of what was happening.”

My father has a faint smile which is the best we can get from him lately. “Yes. Baseball isn’t my favorite sport either.” I didn’t even know that my father had a favorite sport. “I used to play lacrosse in high school.” I didn’t know that either. It hits me right now how little I know about my parents. Even before we all stopped talking… I always saw them as parents and not as individuals. But they had lives before me. They had lives before each other.

“Were you any good?”

“Not really. I was on the bench most games. But I liked being part of a team.”

My response gets lost in my throat because something catches my eye. At first, I can’t tell what. And then… “Where is the picture?”

“What picture?” I can perfectly hear in my father’s tone that he perfectly knows what I’m talking about.

“The family picture. Where is it?”

“We talked about it with your mother. A family picture should be of family members and Peter is… not.”

“Mom let you take the picture down?”

“Her doctor thinks it’s for the best.” Here we go. The magic words. ‘The doctor thinks’. It’s not even ‘the doctor said’. For all I know it could be my father’s own interpretation of things. ‘The doctor thinks we should get a change of scenery, so we’re going to move’. ‘The doctor thinks it would be good for you to take pills until you’ve dealt with your emotions’. ‘The doctor thinks we shouldn’t obsess about what can’t be changed’. I know my father means well. But I think everything would have been much smoother if we just _talked about it_. At least once…

To be fair, we talked about it _before_ it happened, but none of us had any idea of what life would be like _after_. And then… I don’t know. Maybe things would have played out differently with Matt too if we had handled the Peter thing better.

This is confusing and frustrating. This hurts. Maybe ‘the doctor’ is right. I should stick to the pills.


	7. The cookies

It’s been two months since we moved. Novelty is slowly turning into everyday life. I got used to the school, the teachers, the work. I am back on track academically. I stopped being amazed whenever I realize that I have friends and just accepted that I got very lucky when the school assigned Lena to be my guide.

Life at home is still not what it used to be, but it’s getting better. Or so I think.

Globally, I’d say that I am getting used to the move. I don’t think about the past that much. When I do, I take the pills. I don’t want to rely on them, but I must admit that they are a nice safety net when I don’t want to be thinking anymore.

Lena’s art project is now proudly hanging on my wall. She also took mine, but I’m not sure what she’s done with it. I have not been to her house yet.

Twice a week or so, I get coffee after school with Lena and Austin. Sometimes, other people join us, but it’s mostly just us three. From time to time, Noah and Emma come too. At first, I thought he came because she was there, but he has come with us on his own and she has not. I guess Lena was right and she really did join the friendship group for him.

I know that Noah has the reputation to be a player, and people always really enigmatically mention homecoming to support that. I still have no idea what happened then, and I’m really starting to get curious, but I also don’t see the player in him. His relationship with Emma seems pretty established. On both sides. Although, I have seen _her_ act a bit insecure once or twice. She might be paying too much attention to reputation and rumors.

Actually, Noah doesn’t just have a reputation as a player. He is often depicted as a bad boy. I really can’t see that either. I know it’s a smaller town than where I come from, and I know that the standards might be different, but… Sure, he is a bit of a free spirit, he is not one hundred percent reliable and his school attendance is not the best. But that doesn’t make anyone anything other than a teenager, does it?

Which leads me to wonder if, maybe, there isn’t more about Noah that I don’t know. Things that his friends would because they grew up together.

Austin, however, completely deserves his baseball reputation. Granted, I am not the most knowledgeable person when it comes to sports, but I have seen him at practice a couple of times and he is by far the best each time. Lena says that I think that because I’m focusing on him since he’s my friend, and that I should at least wait for an actual game before making up my mind.

Matt and I used to go to basketball games in my old school, we have also been to one or two lacrosse games, but I do not remember ever going to a baseball game. This will be another milestone in my life, I guess. Plus, I know that Austin likes when we watch him play and I already promised that I would be there. I'll make up my mind then.

“Hey, Will?”

I freeze on my chair and look up to Noah. My stomach flutters slightly when my eyes meet his. It’s been doing that a while, lately. My crush might be getting a bit out of hand, but it’s not like I’m fooling myself. He has a girlfriend. That means that he is straight, and that he is taken. Two rock-solid reasons why I can’t have him. I know where I stand.

“Yeah?”

“Have you finished your English essay?”

“Nearly. I still have to write the conclusion. You?”

“I haven’t started.”

“Noah, it’s due tomorrow.”

“I know, I… I’m a bit stuck.” He looks very embarrassed. “Do you think you could help me out?”

“Me?”

“Yeah… I haven’t handed out the last two essays on time, so I really need to do this one if I don’t want to have to do it in detention… And usually, I ask Lena for help, but she’s actually a terrible tutor. So… I thought I’d ask someone else.”

“Why me?” I know that I sound like a broken record, but I don’t get why he’s coming to me for this. Especially as he seems uncomfortable about it.

Noah shrugs. “I don’t know. You had a decent grade on your last essay.” I notice that he doesn’t seem to even consider the possibility of his girlfriend for help. I get that he might be embarrassed, but isn’t your girlfriend supposed to be the person with whom you can truly be yourself? Good and bad?

“Yes, we can work after school. They are refurbishing the library, but we could go to my place. Or I can come to your house.”

“No, let’s go to yours. But… I’m not really good at English.” It seems very important to him that I keep my expectations down. As if he were afraid to let me down, somehow.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got some good tips that never failed me before.”

He gently smiles, visibly grateful when I haven’t even done anything yet.

When we get to my house after school, my mother is baking something. The house smells heavenly. I hate it immediately.

We enter the living room where she is dusting the pictures. Again.

“How was school?” she asks without even glancing at us.

“Fine. Mom, this is Noah, we have homework to do.”

My mother turns around and she smiles at him. It pierces my heart straight away. For the first time in forever, her smile looks genuine. It reaches her eyes.

“Are you the baseball player?” she asks.

“No, Ma’am. I’m afraid I am not the sporty kind.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not like Will is either.” Thanks, Mom.

Noah looks at me with an amused smile. “That means that we have something in common other than eating lunch, then,” he replies. It was but a joke and yet it stings a bit. He’s right. We don’t have much in common. Even without Emma, even if he were into guys… he wouldn’t notice me, would he?

“You boys go do some work, I’ll call you when the cookies are ready.”

“The cookies?” Noah repeats, a bit surprised.

“Yes, I thought I’d prepare a snack today. How great that Will happens to bring a friend today! He won’t be able to eat them all, now.”

Noah’s eyes look for mine, but there is no way I can hold eye contact right now. He knows I don’t like cookies. My mother does too, of course, but it’s probably not one of her good days.

“Thank you very much,” Noah replies. “I haven’t had a homemade snack in forever.”

My mother seems really pleased. “It is really nice to meet you, Noah. I hope we’ll see more of you!”

Noah promises and we disappear in my room. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask about the cookies.

The essay writing moves on slowly. Not that Noah isn’t getting it, we just keep being distracted and the conversation drifts regularly.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me after we watched our third YouTube video. “I’m wasting your time, aren’t I?”

I shrug. “We still have time. And I’m not the one who’s behind on homework. It’s me who should stop wasting your time.”

“You never waste my time,” he tells me. “I always enjoy spending time with you.” Given his tone, this wasn’t meant as a compliment; he was just stating a fact. It still makes me feel warm and giddy inside. Then it stresses me out. I need to stop this. I should know better. I do know better.

I can’t have another Matt situation.

Especially since, this time, we won’t move anywhere, and I won’t be able to run away.

After an hour, my mother brings us a plate of cookies. Once more, her smile seems more genuine than it has been for months. I think she is relieved to see with her own eyes that I am getting back to normal, that I have friends, that they are nice…

Maybe seeing that life can continue will help her get out of the slight apathy she seems to be stuck in.

“Cookies?” Noah asks once she has left the room.

“Yes, it used to be the official Sunday snack.”

“Is your father fond of them?”

“Not really.” I only now realize that it was a trick question. If I had answered yes, Noah would probably have let it slide. But now his golden eyes are staring at my face. I don’t know how he does that, but I can feel his gaze burning my skin. I understand that he won’t ask any questions, but he won’t let go until I give him answers either.

“She just likes to bake.” That’s not entirely a lie. I’m getting quite good at half-truths.

“She could bake something else.”

“Cookies are easy.”

“So are brownies.” He can’t know that, but his reply could be enough to make me cry. She used to bake brownies all the time because they are my favorite. But then there was Peter and we had a week each. And later, when there was no Peter left, she stopped baking altogether.

She started again when my father took the picture down. Always cookies, never on a weekend. I don’t know what’s happening in my mother’s head, but I know that she’s hurting, somewhere deep where none of us can reach her.

“Yeah, well she likes baking brownies better.”

His eyes are still on my face and I still can’t hold eye-contact.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?” I’m pretty sure I know who he’s talking about, but I am not going there until I’m certain.

“The boy in the picture. The one that isn’t in your living room anymore.”

Once, when I was in middle school, my English teacher came in with two different shoes. Different shapes and colors. Everyone giggled throughout the lesson. I only figured out why when someone told me _afterward_. So it always surprises me when someone notices something that isn’t obvious. We were in the living room for less than ten minutes.

How are people so observant?

“Peter.”

“Big cookies fan?”

“Big cookies fan,” I confirm.

I finally look back into his eyes. In there, I see a boy who isn’t going away, who is there for me, and who is ready to receive all of my pain. Noah is right here, telling me with a look and a soft smile to stop keeping it all in, to let it out, and I trust that more than I ever trusted anything else in my life.

It’s crazy. No one could read that off someone else’s face, right? He is probably just curious but doesn’t really want to know about my feelings on the situation. It’s a generally accepted rule than when people ask ‘how are you?’, they are just being polite and do not actually expect an answer.

Plus, if I were to share this with someone, it would be Lena. She’s the person I’m closest to, right? Or Austin, who’s nothing but light personified and who always makes me want to be happy. But Noah… we haven’t talked that much… it would be weird…

Except it’s not weird. Noah always seems to understand things without me needing to spell them out for him. I remember when he was here with Lena and how he always reacted the way I needed. I never knew if it was because he could tell or if I just got lucky.

Now, I know.

When Noah speaks again, his voice is warm like a hug, soft as a caress, deeper than the ocean.

“I’m sorry your brother died.”


	8. Peter

He’s sorry about what now? Nothing in his sentence is correct. “He didn’t die. He’s not even my brother.”

“Who is he then?”

For a moment, I don’t think I have it in me to answer him. I think I’ll just dodge his questions. “It’s a long story,” I reply.

Noah shrugs. “I have time.”

“Don’t you have an essay to write?”

He shrugs again. “I think this is more important.”

He looks at me with such intensity that I can feel my skin tingling under his gaze. Once more, all these feelings I am not entitled to come rushing in. I close my eyes for a second, take a deep breath, and focus on Peter rather than Noah.

“I was never meant to be an only child. My mother wanted a big family. But apparently, things didn’t go so well when she had me and… after that, she couldn’t anymore. Or maybe there was something else, I don’t know. I just gathered information here and there, it’s not really a family approved topic.”

“Who’s the boy, then?” Noah asks again, as if he knew that I was sort of avoiding the heart of the subject. I think back to all the times Noah could see right through me and I feel like he might be the one person in the world that knows me best. It’s probably stupid. I don’t even know anything about him. It still seems like I could tell him anything and he would get it.

So I start speaking.

“A bit over five years ago, my parents asked me if I would be opposed to us fostering children. That’s how we got Peter. He was barely three when he came in. At first, he was very shy, and I think he was a bit confused about what he was doing there. He didn’t talk either. I used to sit in his room and read aloud. He would sit in the corner, as if he was afraid to take too much space, and he would listen. Nothing more. Not speak, not participate, not smile… just listen. I remember being afraid that he was broken. It was a silly thought but I only now realize that it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. But after a few months, he really opened up to us. He was just the happiest person I’ve ever met.”

“More than Austin?” Noah asks softly, breaking the dawning tension.

I smile faintly. “Yes, actually. He was just… a ray of sunshine. Light personified.” I get lost in the pain of happy memories.

“What happened?” Noah asks softly.

I can’t believe that I am going to talk about it. I thought the words that have been spiraling in my head for months would never make it out again. It backfired tremendously the last time I talked about it to someone.

“He got taken away,” I reply in a toneless voice.

“Did something happen?”

“No. We were weeks away from going to the judge. We had decided to adopt him. At this point, he was a part of the family, it just wasn’t official. And then the mother reappeared. Out of nowhere. So we ended up going to a judge, but not the one we planned to, and definitely not for the reason we wanted… It went quite quickly, but maybe it’s because I don’t actually know the entire story. In the end, the mother got full custody back and she took Peter out of state. She wasn’t open to any sort of contact with us. Not even letters. He just… vanished. He was here one day and gone the next.”

“At least, you know he’s alright.”

“At least nothing. There is still this gap in our lives. He isn’t here, that’s all I know. I keep seeing things that make me think of him, thinking of stories I want to tell him, finding stuff I want to try with him, and then I come home and it’s grey, and cold, and empty… I know he’s alive, I know he’s probably happy, and even though I’m so happy and grateful about that, it’s also the worst part. Because you can’t mourn someone who is not dead.”

We are silent for a moment, then he says: “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable with this.” At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about, but then he moves right next to me and wraps his arms around me. My first instinct is to move away, to avoid this proximity that scares me. But my needs are stronger than my instincts and what I need right now is to let go of some of the pain. I don’t even feel ashamed when the first tear falls.

I don’t sob, I don’t burst into tears, I don’t even properly cry. But each of the four tears that leave my eyes lifts a burden from my soul.

“You know,” he tells me when we break apart, looking away so I can wipe my cheeks and pretend that he didn’t know, “you might see him again someday.”

I know he meant well, but that’s the last thing I want to hear. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“It took me a long time to let go of hope. I can’t go there again.”

Noah seems about to say something but he ends up silent. This time, I’m not sure he gets it, but he respects it.

I used to ask my parents regularly about getting Peter back. I googled adoption laws. I kicked and screamed when they gave his stuff away. My parents ended up taking me to see this doctor. We talked for a long time, she gave me pills, and I stopped asking questions. It wasn’t the pills, nor the talk, it was the dawning realization that that was it. If this was the only response that my parents had for me, Peter was never coming back. I wasn’t supposed to hope, I wasn’t supposed to fight. I was supposed to let go and move on.

I just didn’t realize that I would also be expected to forget.

“You don’t talk about him much, do you?” I look at Noah and I see that he doesn’t really await an answer. It was more a statement than a question.

For some reason, I reply anyway. “I hate that we have this tacit rule that we don’t talk about it. My parents think that if we don’t put the pictures up and if we don’t speak about him, it will be like he never existed. But he did exist. He was with us for nearly four years and we all fell in love with him before he was taken away. I think… I think it would just be easier if he wasn’t a forbidden subject.”

“He doesn’t have to be. If your parents aren’t ready, you can tell me about him.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Then don’t do it now. But when we’re at school and you think about him, just say it. ‘Peter used to watch that show.’ ‘That was my brother's favorite food.’ Just little things that sometimes need to get out, that don’t mean much but which become so big when we keep them inside.”

I feel… I don’t know how I feel. But I think it’s an important feeling. I think it’s something positive. Maybe such a simple thing is what I needed to start moving forward and I don’t know how to cope with seeing a way out of feeling stuck.

“Do you want to show me pictures of him?”

“All the pictures are gone.”

“Oh yeah? What’s in your unopened box, then?”

For a second, I don’t know what to reply. Noah who always sees, who always knows.

He probably isn’t really interested. But he seems happy when I get the box. I open it and Noah acts as if it’s not a big deal. He takes the framed certificate first. “Wow. You really are a brainy.”

“It was a team effort.”

“Yeah. A team of brainies.”

Then he takes a flyer from the art show. “You were in a real exhibit? You know what? I’ve never seen what you do, but I’m gonna trust Purple. I want one of your pieces too.”

“Like what?”

“Your next project.”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Then the one after that. The first one you really like.”

“What if I want to keep it?” I’m just teasing him now, but I like the casualness of this conversation compared to the heaviness of the previous and next topics.

“Will, I’m not even joking, I helped you unpack without snooping and I’m eating all of your cookies even if that might give me diabetes. I totally deserve a painting. A drawing. A sculpture. What do you even do?”

“I’ll surprise you,” I reply.

“Fine. But no origami. That’s a ridiculous trend.”

I laugh, and my good mood lingers even when he takes the first picture of Peter. It’s one of the two of us reading a book in the old rocking chair we didn’t keep when we moved. He finds a few more pictures and then he says: “He sort of looks like you…”

“You do know that we are absolutely not related, right?”

“Of course I know that! But look on this picture. He’s almost a mini-you.” I kind of see what he means. I like that idea. That Peter and I could look like real brothers.

“Do you think he’ll forget me?” the words made it out of my mouth before I even knew what I was going to say.

“He was with you guys for four years.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t remember much about when I was seven…”

“He will probably forget details, but he won’t forget the love. Trust me: you never forget the love.”

There is something important behind that sentence, I can feel it. But I’m not like Noah, I can’t see these things clearly. I don’t know how to reach out to him the way he did to me and help him with whatever pain he has.

Noah gets the worn-out bunny out of the box. “Yours or his?”

“His. I guess his mother didn’t want to take it. I found it in the trash and I just… couldn’t.”

“You know what, Will? One day, you’ll bring it back to him. Even if it’s when he’s eighteen. I promise you he’ll remember.”

There is just something in his tone that makes me believe it. Peter won’t be a part of my life again. But one day, when that will be alright, I will go find him and I will let him know how important he was to me.

Noah smiles at me, and history just has a way of repeating itself, I guess. This moment feels like déjà-vu. The boy was different, the emotions were stronger, but the layout was similar. It was my bedroom too – although another one – I had blurted out all the feelings of having my little brother taken away not even a week before, and I had this almost uncontrollable urge to kiss the other boy.

I gave in then but I won’t now. Noah won’t be the new Matt.


	9. The pills

Noah got a B for his essay. Apparently, it’s a big deal. I’m glad that makes him happy because that’s probably the best I can do for him. I don’t struggle in English, at all, but I’m still more of a numbers person.

When we got the papers back, he just turned around, looked at me with a happy smile but mischievous eyes, showed me his grade, and stated: “You’re my official tutor, now.”

He said that as a joke, and I’m pretty sure he meant it that way, but he also came to see me a few days after the next essay was set to tell me that he was struggling with the new assignment and that he would like to have another study session. If I was fine with that.

Of course, I was fine with that! There is something strangely soothing and empowering, almost cathartic, in feeling useful.

Noah being Noah, our study sessions are everything but regular and we stopped planning them. They are always last-minute. He always asks if I’m free, as in right now, and I don’t feel guilty anymore when I tell him that I can’t. Our sessions take place in the library or at my house and I don’t even question it. I don’t know what it takes to be invited at Noah’s, but given how little he shares about his life outside of school, I get that our friendship is not there yet. And might never be.

Austin is starting to get busy with practice as the season will start soon– or something – but he still makes time to join Lena and me for our usual coffee break.

Most of the baristas now know us by name. I’m not sure if it’s sweet or weird. When I lived in a bigger city, even the people working at the Starbucks where I got coffee every morning didn’t know, or care about, my name.

Lena and I went to the city twice to see art exhibitions. I think it’s the first time I spontaneously went with a friend. School trips obviously do not count. Even I would take a field trip over algebra any day, regardless of the program.

I loved the first show, but I wasn’t impressed by the second one. Lena told me that it always gives her hope to see uninspiring or uninspired art being exhibited. According to her, if those made it there, then any artist has a chance.

She has a point, I guess.

The cynic in me would argue that on the contrary, it simply shows that talent has very little to do with things and that luck and nepotism are much stronger allies.

There is also the third argument that art is subjective and that just because a piece doesn’t talk to us, it doesn’t mean that someone else didn’t fall in love with it.

I am getting to know the name of more people around school, there are more and more people I talk to, but ever since day one, I remain in the same group of friends; it even narrowed a bit. We still have lunch with everyone, but Lena, Austin, and I spend more time just the three of us than with other people.

I mean… and sometimes with Noah, but… Noah is Noah and he spends as much time with us as he does with Emma, with his other friends, or even alone, I guess.

The good thing about Noah is that since he is a bit magic – at least according to me – he always fits back in. It doesn’t matter if we barely saw him in days, that he missed twenty inside jokes, or that one of us – them, really – shared something a bit personal when he wasn’t here. Whenever he comes back, he can just easily slide into the conversation and join in as if he hadn’t missed any of it.

Whereas if I daydream for five minutes, I feel like I just started a movie halfway through.

It’s been months now, and I think I finally fully embraced moving here. I believe that, Peter aside, I am happier here than I was there. It globally feels like I am moving forward. The one thing that remains the same is life at home.

My parents are still this awkward mix between stuck in a past that will never be again and a future they wish will come. That mix does not equal our present, though. They are never truly here with me. Some evening, when we talk over dinner, it almost feels like they genuinely see me and care about my everyday life. But then something happens, that usually reminds us about Peter, one of us pulls back, and the rest of the evening goes back to being fake and forced. I take pills those evenings.

Today, Noah showed up for a study session. I was a bit surprised because we never really make plans on weekends. From what I gathered Saturdays are Emma’s. Not today, apparently.

We are not doing English today. He needs help with math. So we are in my room

I just realized how much harder it is to explain something you are good at. I’m not trying to praise myself in any way, I just mean that I have to try in English, so I understand the struggles. Math however just speaks to me so it’s harder to spot what could confuse someone else and I really struggle to find the correct level of empathy without sounding arrogant or patronizing.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him after a while. He looks genuinely confused, so I add, “I don’t think we’re making as much progress as we usually do with English.”

“That’s my fault,” he says. “I’m not the most academic person. Plus, you’re taking time to help me so regardless of the progress we do or don’t make, I’m very grateful. And I did understand some new things today. I’m not sure I’ll remember them, but at least I’ve done most of the homework.”

I’m about to say something when his phone rings. It’s Emma. Again. Just like the last three times, he screens her. I’m curious, but I’m not brave enough to ask. “Should we take a break?” he asks.

“Sure. Do you want something to eat?”

“Did your mom make cookies?” he asks. I understand that there is more than it seems in that question. He is checking up on her – or on me.

“She did. Do you want some?”

“I would love some. They were delicious.”

“Wait until you try her brownies, then,” I reply. “I might be biased, but they are to die for.”

“I can’t wait,” he tells me. The way he looks at me makes me shiver. I don’t think he cares about the brownies. I think that he is talking about her getting better. These little moments that we’ve shared now and then since I told him about Peter genuinely make me feel less lonely.

When I come back with the cookies, he is packing all his stuff.

“Changed your mind?” I ask.

“About what?”

“Cookies.”

“Absolutely not. I changed my mind about homework. Is it cool if we just hang out?”

As if any part of me wanted to say no to that. “Sure.”

I hand him the plate and he looks at me with mischievous eyes. “So… can I snoop in your box again?”

“No.” He asks me that every time he comes over, and I always tell him no. I don’t really mind if Noah knows more about me, I just… don’t want to have to explain Matt to him. I thought about simply taking the pictures out of the box, but that seemed dishonest and after everything he did, I don’t want to be dishonest with Noah.

Not that I’m particularly honest either…

“Can I snoop around your room, then?”

I laugh. “Go for it!”

I shouldn’t have said that. He’s smart. He went straight for the nightstand. Which could be fine, I don’t hide anything shameful in there, but lately, I am in the bad habit of keeping the pills where I can easily reach them.

Noah gently takes the box in his hand and reads the label. His face is blank which means that he isn’t confused. He knows what this is.

“Shouldn’t they be… somewhere else?”

“Probably. But some nights I need them.”

“_Some_ nights?”

“Yeah, I just… take a couple when I’m feeling down.” Noah frowns. That annoys me. He never judged me before, so why now? Does he find me weak? I really didn’t think that he would be the person I should hide taking antidepressants from. As if I had to justify myself, I add: “Life just sucks, sometimes, you know?”

“I do know. But this isn’t the answer.”

“The doctor said…”

“No. Look, I don’t know your doctor but I can tell you for sure that he or she never told you to ignore your pills sometimes and then take a double or triple dose whenever you feel down. It’s not how they work. You can’t self-medicate mental health. If you don’t want to take the pills, fine, then don’t. But tell your doctor. And if you think that you need them, take them properly.”

I sigh. He’s right. I know he is. But this all sounds like facing problems and no one in this house seems to be any good at that. “They help me stop thinking.”

“Then you’re taking them wrong. Or they’re not appropriate. They shouldn’t suppress who you are, or make the feelings disappear. They should help you cope with them.” He pauses. “How often do you take them?”

I shrug. “Twice a week. Something like that.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“I’m fine.”

He nods. “Talk to your doctor.”

It’ my turn to nod. “I will.” He looks skeptical. “I will,” I repeat.

“And you’ll stop being an idiot with your health in the meantime?”

I’m about to answer yes when I realize that I have been using them as stabilizers. I don’t know if I could stop myself. “Would you keep them?”

“You want me to keep your pills?”

“Please.” My voice is barely a murmur.

“Fine.” He puts them in his pocket. “Call me if you need them. Day or night.”

_Day or night_. That’s tempting. But, actually, I’m planning on not needing the pills anymore. I don’t even think I ever needed them. It was just more convenient than therapy or family communication. Now, though… I have someone to talk to.

“Could I text you when I’m feeling down?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.” He seems to notice that it might not have been the most appropriate answer because he adds, “Of course, you can. But… quick question… aren’t you talking to Austin about this? Or Lena?”

“No. That’s not really something I want to bring to school. I know it’s odd, but…”

“Not really. Not at all, actually. I completely get that.” Once more, I am left wondering about Noah’s life out of school. This time, I see for the first time that, perhaps, his life is more complicated than mine.

Maybe it’s the perfect timing for me to ask him about it. “Okay, your turn. I keep telling you all this shit about my life, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than your bad-boy reputation, of course.”

Noah sighs and shakes his head. “People have labeled me as a bad boy because I miss school sometimes, I smoke and I had a few girlfriends. But it’s ridiculous. I miss school because there are days where I don’t want to face the fact that everyone is so much smarter than me. That it’s so easy for them but I struggle every single day. After a while, you reach a point where it’s easier to just not care, you know? Smoking is a bad habit, but it’s not like I’m doing drugs. I mean, yeah, I smoked weed a couple of times, but I am not the only one. And for the girls… they seem to like me and I’m weak. But things never go really far. What happened at homecoming was really a one-off. It was unlike me. I’m with Emma and I’m faithful to her. I’m not the player everyone says.”

“What happened at homecoming?”

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Apparently, he expected me to already know all about it. “Can we please not talk about that?”

“Sure.” What sort of hypocrite would I be if I were pushing him to tell me something he isn’t ready for or comfortable with?

His phone rings again and he doesn’t even look at it.

“Problems with Emma?” I ask.

“No.” He doesn’t develop. I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks this answer is good enough or if he is telling me that it’s none of my business.

Noah joins me on the bed. He sits next to me and his smell is all around me. I actively have to ignore it.

“You know what? I’m not really fair on you. You told me about your brother, you told me about your mom, you told me about you… and when you asked something I dodged. I’ll tell you something that I haven’t told anyone but Purple. Okay?”

I nod, afraid to speak and break the moment. He lifts his jumper and shows me his wrist. I had noticed his tattoo before but I never asked him about it. I only now have the confirmation that, as I feared, he simply wouldn’t have answered.

“When I was twelve, my mom bought me this book about the Vikings. I was obsessed with it. We read it at least twenty times. There was a chapter about runes. I learned it off by heart. I would write her messages on post-it notes and put them on the fridge. I don’t know how accurate they were, I never read another book on the subject, but I never forgot them.”

“You got runes you’re not sure about the meaning tattooed on your wrist?”

“They were my mom’s favorites.”

I feel cold suddenly. “Were?”

“She died that summer. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t believe that I implied that it would be easier to get over Peter if he were dead to someone who actually lost a family member…

Noah shrugs. “It was a long time ago. But she’s also always there, you know?”

“Yes, I do.”

We look at each other and we share another one of these moments when we completely understand each other. For a second, I get lost in the amber color of his eyes that I have never seen on anyone else before.

My eyes fall on his lips and before I can snap out of it, his eyes open wide in surprise.


	10. The barista

I have been mortified before, but never this much. This is worse than the Matt situation. If Matt reacted the way he did, how will Noah? He doesn’t owe me anything, we don’t have history, we don’t ‘go way back’… Is he going to get angry? Or weirded out? Is he going to tell people at school? Is he…

I nervously stay there, waiting for Noah to do or say something. Anything. Seal my fate, I guess.

Noah surprises me, though. His rejection isn’t violent in any way like Matt’s was. Not that he was physically violent… But Noah doesn’t move back, he doesn’t look at me funny, he doesn’t seem disgusted and, past his original surprise, he doesn’t look shocked either. He smiles and pretends the moment didn’t happen.

I knew my crush was a dead-end. He is straight and taken. But I also subconsciously knew that this moment had to come. There was bound to be a moment when my crush would be out of control and I would have to be rejected. I guess this is now.

It means that I will be able to stop hoping, especially at night when I am in this odd state between awake and asleep. Noah isn’t mine to take. He will never be. He isn’t interested. At least, I have not lost a friend in the process, which is more than I thought I could ask for.

His phone rings again and I am suddenly very annoyed with Emma. He screened you five times by now. Just get the fucking hint and stop trying already.

But this is also the perfect opportunity to end an awkward situation. “I should go.”

“Girlfriend drama to take care of?”

“Something like that.”

I nod. He grabs his stuff. I guess it is an elegant way to end this conversation.

If Noah didn’t leave with the pills, I definitely would have taken a couple tonight…

I try to not think about it on Sunday but it’s close to impossible.

When my mother starts a new batch of cookies for ‘the next time I have guests’, I think about Noah. When I finish my English paper, I think about Noah. When I open my cupboard and see the still packed box, I think about Noah. Whenever I don’t do anything, I think about Noah…

So… yeah… maybe rejection didn’t kill my crush after all. Not that it matters. Whether or not I have feelings for Noah, I will not act on them now that he silently made me understand that he is not interested.

I hope he knows that. Does he know that? Does he see me differently now?

That’s the idea that keeps me up most of the night. That, maybe, I am a different person for Noah now. I’m sure – I hope – he would have been fine with me being gay, but I also know that there is an extra layer of awkwardness for straight boys when they know a boy crushes on them. It’s as if they could cope with any girl, even one they hate, being in love with them, but they are terrified at the prospect of another male being interested. I mean… that’s the sheer definition of homophobia, isn’t it?

Still… I would _understand_ in a way if Noah was weirded out by the situation, but I also wouldn’t. I kind of expect more from him.

Beyond that… am I going to lose Noah?

If I had to name my friends, I would say Lena and Austin. They are the ones I spend most of my time with, I laugh with them, I text them when I’m bored… But if I had to say who I feel closest to, that would be Noah. I know this isn’t entirely mutual, but I have told him things I haven’t told anyone else, and I know he could make me confess even more if he wanted to. This is the combination of feeling safe with him and all my willpower slowly melting whenever he looks at me.

Is that all in the past now?

I groan and bite my pillow to scream my frustration. Hopefully, it muffled the sound enough that my parents won’t hear it. The last thing I want is my mom asking me ‘if everything is alright’. Then again, who am I kidding? No one in this house is going to ask that question to anyone…

Why did I give away the pills again?

Noah isn’t in school on Monday. I know that it probably has nothing to do with me, but I can’t help taking it personally.

If he cared, if he understood, he would have shown up even just to smile at me in English and showing me that everything is as it always were.

I have no right to blame him for any of this, and yet I do…

I think Lena has a mild crush on our barista. She hasn’t mentioned anything, but it’s in the way she keeps glancing at him, the way she sometimes touches her hair when he is around…

I mean… I get it. He’s hot. Tall, athletic, little scar on the right cheekbone that is oddly charming, one dimple when he smiles… I noticed him too. He is older than us. I would guess second year of college, but it’s not like I’m going to ask for confirmation.

I think that Austin noticed too. We exchange looks whenever Lena is dreamily looking at the counter. He seems to find the whole situation extremely funny.

“I think I’m going to get myself a treat,” she says.

“I’m sure you are,” Austin replies in a toneless voice but I am still surprised that she doesn’t hear the teasing there.

“Do you guys want something?”

“We’re good. I don’t think they have what we want.”

Lena looks a bit confused but is apparently not interested enough to ask and she leaves us to get her order. I am a bit uncomfortable. Not about teasing Lena, I’m perfectly fine with that. It’s Austin’s last sentence… I understand it’s a joke, but I would love to be brave enough to tell him that they might have something I want…

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So… Lena and the barista… Do you think she has a shot?”

“I don’t think she’s going to go for it,” I predict.

“Why not? He’s older but he’s also good looking. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to look like him…”

I don’t understand what Austin is self-conscious about but that seems like a slippery topic. “I don’t think she would dare. Besides, there are probably tens of girls hitting on him every day.”

“Are you telling me that all I need to get girls is to work in a coffee shop?”

“Yes, Austin. Forget all about being a baseball star, being funny, and being cute. If you can’t make lattes, it’s all for nothing.”

Austin’s eyes start to sparkle. “Funny and cute?” I can feel my cheek heat up and I am about to mumble some sort of excuse when he carries on, “could you please tell that to the girls in school. Especially the brunette in our physics group?” Lena comes back with a brownie and Austin tells her proudly: “Will thinks I’m cute.”

“Clearly, he has no taste in boys…”

Austin shoots me knowing look. As if he were saying _‘Can I retaliate?’_ I look at him back, silently answering _‘Go for it. She clearly asked for it…_’ and ignoring what I could reply to Lena’s sentence.

She seems to notice the way we smile at each other and asks: “What?”

“Nothing," Austin replies, smile getting wider. "Will and I are just wondering what you like the most here. The coffee? The cakes? Or maybe something else…"

"Like what?" She seems genuinely confused.

"Oh, I don't know…" I say. "Maybe something else that's dark and strong..."

Austin bursts out laughing and that's when she gets it. "Oh, you two are ridiculous!"

Austin replies something but that gets lost at the back of my mind. My very own crush just walked in with his girlfriend and I don't seem to be able to focus on anything else. Finally, I should get an answer. Has anything changed between Noah and me?

"Hi, guys!" says Emma with a happy smile. Whatever drama happened between her and Noah on Saturday is clearly in the past. "Can we join you?"

"Of course!" Austin replies. "We're just talking about Lena's little crush."

My eyes dart from Lena to Emma and then back. I'm not sure Lena would like Emma to know about this. Lena’s face is neutral and Emma’s smile doesn’t seem fake.

“Is it the tall black one?” Emma asks and Lena blushes slightly. “He is very handsome!” Noah raises an eyebrow and looks at his girlfriend. “What? Just because I have a boyfriend I’m not supposed to notice when there is a handsome boy around?”

Noah simply smiles it off and I wish I had that sort of confidence. I never had a boyfriend, but I’m pretty sure that if I had one and he was saying that his type was that hot barista, I would feel very self-conscious. Then again, it probably helps to look like Noah…

“So… how handsome is my competition?” Noah asks taking a seat.

“This handsome,” Austin answers discretely pointing at the guy.

“All the girls at school have a thing for him,” Emma says. That makes me a bit uneasy. Yes, sure, she has a point, but I genuinely can’t tell if she’s telling Lena that she understands her crush or if she’s calling her plain.

I don’t know why I’m always expecting the worst of Emma. Given the people around her, she must be a good person. I’m probably just trying to picture her as a villain because then I’m not just a whiney little bitch who is upset because she gets to kiss the boy I want.

As Emma leaves the table to order drinks for her and Noah, Austin shows something on his phone to Lena and Noah leans toward me so he can softly say: “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” I reply too quickly.

“Hey, could you stay after school tomorrow?”

“I guess so, why?”

“I have missed two English lessons and I was wondering if you’d go over your notes with me.”

There it is. Noah’s way of telling me that nothing changed. Finally, I can stop torturing myself. I can’t get the boy but I didn’t lose the friend. “Sure. Anytime.”

Noah almost looks relieved. As if he was expecting me to say no. Why would he think that? Why would I be the one pulling back?

Emma comes back with two coffees and a napkin. She hands the napkin to Lena with the proudest smile on her face. All our jaws drop when we see a phone number on it.

“He gave you his number?” Lena asks.

“Sort of. We talked a little bit, I told him that I _loved_ the drawings he adds on the menu board every day, that it reminded me of the drawings my artist friend makes, then I added ‘You know, the one with purple hair’, then he said – hand on heart his exact words – ‘Oh, yeah, the pretty one’, so I chatted you up. He’s going to a gallery opening on the third with some of his friends. He said you could call him if you were interested in joining them. Apparently, it’s a big deal. Anyway… it’s not a date but it’s the best I could do.”

“He gave you his number for me?”

“I’m not sure,” Emma admits. “There are probably loads of pretty girls with purple hair in the shop right now… Oh, no, just you!”

Lena smiles. “There’s no way I can call him.”

“Then text him,” Emma says, pragmatic.

“I can’t do that either.”

“Why not? It’s a gallery opening with his friends. If he isn’t into you, it’s a nice evening out. If he’s into you, it’s enough of a public space that you can make sure he’s not a creep. You can take Will with you. Will, you’re into art too, right? Don’t you want to go to a gallery opening?”

“It sounds fun,” I admit. “I’ll go with you if you don’t want to go alone.”

“You guys are crazy,” Lena says, but I can see on her face that she’s tempted. I don’t know if it’s the gallery or the barista. Probably both. Most likely him a little bit more.

All I need to do is make sure that she doesn’t chicken out and calls or messages him before the weekend. Just because I can’t get the boy I want doesn’t mean that no one else should.


	11. The game

Lena didn’t call or text the barista. It could be fine, but she is now obsessing over the fact that maybe it was rude, and we can only get coffee on the days he isn’t working. And because they don’t have regular shifts, she usually sends me or Austin to check first. The whole thing is ridiculous. She is being ridiculous.

I don’t know how to nicely tell her that he probably doesn’t care that much. He might not even remember it, and he most likely wasn’t expecting anything from her.

But I wouldn’t like anyone shoving down my throat that Noah isn’t interested, so I let her get wrapped in that idea that the barista – who probably has a name – cares about her enough to be hurt because she hasn’t reached out to him.

Noah is in school today and he apparently decided to have lunch with us. He sits right next to me and I am torn. Part of me is happy about that. Part of me wishes he wouldn’t. Yes, I still want to be his friend but doesn’t he see the effect he has on me? Noah who always sees. Surely, he knows that he should give me a bit of space, that he is confusing me, that the line between us, although really clear, seems blurry to me at the moment.

Austin arrives late, grinning hard. “Guess who is getting more playing time next game than any other player, including the seniors?”

“If it’s not you, it’s not a really interesting story,” Noah comments.

“Lucky for you it is me.”

“So if you guys lose it’s mainly your fault then?” Lena asks.

“Exactly,” Austin agrees still smiling. “Which means that we will _not_ lose. Which means…”

“Party,” Noah and Lena finish in unison.

That’s when Emma arrives. She squeezes between Lena and Noah, forcing them to move a bit. Noah’s leg is now pressing against mine. Of course, he barely notices, but I can’t focus on anything else for a few seconds.

“I can’t believe Mom is letting you have another party,” she tells her brother.

“It’s kinda both our party. You’re going to invite your friends. Plus, my grades are higher and my team actually wins.”

“You’re just mean to my team because you wish baseball had cheerleaders…” Of course, she’s a cheerleader. How did I not know? How did I not even consider that option?

“We don’t need cheerleaders because our sport is interesting enough on its own,” he replies and everyone, including Emma, laughs. Although I don’t entirely agree on the supposed interest of baseball.

Emma turns to Noah and asks. “Are we going to the game together?”

“Sure.”

“Should I pick you up?” she continues.

I didn’t expect Noah’s face to suddenly shut. He seems annoyed. He doesn’t even look at her when he asks: “Are we really there again?” His tone is low and even, which somehow indicates very clearly how displeased he is. On this one, I sort of have to admit that I am not quite sure why he got triggered by her question.

“No, we’re not. Sorry. I was just offering.”

“It’s fine.” Noah softens a bit. “I’m picking Lena up, I could do the same with you.”

“That would be a detour,” Emma says. “Don’t worry, I’ll just go with Jen. The first one there saves a few sits?”

“Deal.”

There is still a weird tension between them and I’m not quite sure why. I’m not the only one to notice it because Austin changes the subject on the first available topic. My sandwich.

“Will, your lunch looks super nice today.”

“Sporty people…” Noah comments. “Always ready to bag someone else’s food…”

Austin shows him his middle finger. “No but honestly… look at that sandwich. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Yeah, well Noah’s right. It’s mine.”

“If I win, do you bring me one of those?”

“I thought you always won.”

“Exactly.”

“To tell you the truth, I did not make my sandwich. My mom started preparing my packed lunches again and I doubt she would just make you one.”

Although most people disregard that non-information, three people are staring intensely at me. Lena, who apparently judges me for having my mother preparing my lunch for me; Austin, who doesn’t seem to comprehend that one would have to make their own lunch; and Noah who knows everything that stands behind that one sentence. My mom is getting out of her haze.

He softly smiles at me and I silently get out the dessert she baked for me. It’s a cookie. We’re still not there yet.

I can see in Noah’s eyes that he gets it. In this instant, my crush doesn’t matter. Whether I can or cannot have him, whether I am going to get over it quickly or pine for years… all that is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that he is still there and that he might be the best friend I ever had.

“What’s happening between Noah and your sister?” Lena asks Austin as we are queuing at the – hot-barista-free – coffee shop.

“She’s a clingy person who chose to date Noah,” Austin replies as if this sentence contains all the answers. I guess it does, in a way. “I mean, I love her, she’s quite literally half of me, but… I don’t think she chose wisely on this one.”

“She could do so much worse than Noah,” Lena replies.

“Could she? It’s Noah, and he’s great. He’s such a loyal friend, and I know that no matter what I ask him, he’ll pull through. But he’s a free spirit. I think he would like to enjoy being in a relationship but I’m not sure he does. He is a much better friend than boyfriend.”

“Okay, but that’s nothing new. Why are they so tense suddenly?”

“I think she dropped the L-word, he didn’t reciprocate, and now she’s trying to find another wait to prove to herself that she’s his number one.”

“Like going to his house?” Lena asks, skeptical.

Austin nods and they both share a look that I don’t understand. So I ask. “What’s wrong with Noah’s house?”

“Have you ever been to Noah’s house?” Austin asks.

“No…”

“Me neither. And I have known the guy for over ten years now. He keeps his family life and his school life religiously separated. I mean… it’s Noah. You know the tattoo on his wrist? Every year for my birthday, I ask him to tell me what it means. Every year, he replies ‘maybe next year’. You can ask Noah to do anything for you. Apart from sharing anything personal. On that front, you can only take what he gives you.”

I look at Lena. I know she knows what the tattoo means. From her face, I couldn’t tell, though. I like that she would understand how personal it is to Noah and that she is protecting his privacy. Also… and I know it’s an awful thought to have about it, part of me is proud that I know something he has always refused Austin.

We get our drinks and take a seat.

“Then again,” Lena says as she sits down, “if I were Emma, I would already feel pretty special just because he stayed with me that long. His usual attention span is much shorter. We all remember homecoming.”

I don’t remember homecoming, although I am starting to really wonder about what might have happened there, but I don’t ask. Noah didn’t want to tell me, and I get the feeling that I shouldn’t hear someone else’s version of what happened.

As we leave the coffee shop, the most incredible thing happens. We run into the hot barista who is probably just about to start his shift or something. And when I say that we run into him, I mean that Lena properly body slams him on her way out.

I never saw someone turn so red before. “I’m very sorry,” she stammers.

“No problem. Oh, hey! It’s the girl who isn’t into gallery openings!”

Between Austin, Lena and me, I’m not quite sure whose jaw dropped the lowest.

“I… uh… I was busy that day.”

He smiles, visibly amused. “Really? Alright then. Tell me which day the opening was.”

She looks disconcerted for a second but she falls back on her feet very quickly: “I am very busy at the moment. It sounded great, though. Maybe next time.”

“Yes. Maybe,” he agrees with a wink before entering the coffee shop to get to work.

“What just happened?” she asks.

“Everyone who ever had an impossible crush now hates you,” I reply. “That’s what happened.” I am only half-joking.

The barista _is_ interested. Or at least _noticed her_. None of us saw that coming.

That’s not entirely true. Emma saw that coming. If I am being completely honest, the thought crossed my mind that Emma might have given a made-up number to Lena on that napkin.

Emma might not be the evil mean girl I wish she would be. Maybe she is just Austin’s equally adorable twin sister…

My room is only lit by the moon. I should have been sleeping for ages by now but my mind is restless.

The barista recognized Lena. Realistically, it is a non-event. It only seems like a relevant thing because she has a soft spot for him.

It gets me thinking about my very own crush. I know I don’t have a shot, and I also know that I will have to get over it eventually. It will happen. I am over Matt now. Sure, it helped that he turned into a total dick, but if I am honest with myself, it took me a while _after_ he became a dick to completely let go of my crush. So I know I will get over Noah eventually.

I also know that I am not the first person to crush on someone who cannot reciprocate, no by a long shot. The world is populated by people in the friendzone. I get that.

It’s just… Noah and I get on so well. There is something between us when it’s just the two of us. I know things about him that his girlfriend doesn’t know. I have told him things that I didn’t think I would get the chance to say out loud. He listened like he cared…

All of that makes me wonder… If I were a girl, would I have had a chance? Is the issue that I am a boy or that I am me? The issue could be his girlfriend, but… regardless of what I think about Emma, it also doesn’t seem like their relationship is rock solid. She doesn’t seem to accept who he is, and he seems to like the idea of a girlfriend more than the girlfriend in question.

What frustrates me even more has nothing to do with Lena, Noah or even Matt. Not directly anyway. It’s just… when will it be my turn? Will I ever fall for a boy who can reciprocate my feelings? Forget about ‘can’. I want to meet that boy that _will_ reciprocate my feelings.

I have read once that LGBT people might enter the dating life later than straight teenagers for a lot of reasons. It just feels unfair.

Then again… I’m not even out, and I have a lot of other shit to work through. How desperate am I that finding a boyfriend would be the thing that keeps me up at night?

I wish I hadn’t given the pills to Noah…

After another hour without sleep, I make a decision. Tomorrow, I will ask for them back.

When I get to the bleachers for the first game of the season, Noah and Lena aren’t there yet. Austin is _obviously_ busy somewhere else. I get ready to go sit on my own when a hand lands on my arm. I turn around and it’s Emma. “Hey, Will! Do you want to wait for Lena and Noah with me?”

This is _absolutely not_ related to what she just asked, but the first thing I say is: “Oh, wow, you look… very committed!” She is wearing Austin’s number on her cheeks in the team’s colors, she is wearing an old baseball cap and the ribbons in her hair are also team colored. Even her outfit is somehow a mirror of what the boys are wearing, although much more glamorous.

I am just wearing the scarf that I was lent for the tryouts and that I completely forgot to return.

She smiles, obviously please, and tell me, “Yes, well, baseball teams might not have cheerleaders, this one officiously does. Even if that just makes us a group of groupies.” I feel the tenderness she has for her brother in that sentence and, suddenly, I like her a lot more.

“It really suits you!”

“Thank you! Come on, we’re over there!”

By ‘we’, she means her and three other girls that are either in her team, or are trying to impress the boys on Austin’s team. It wouldn’t surprise me either way because Jen is there and I do remember the way she looked at Austin during the tryouts.

Emma introduces me to Amy and Olivia – but I can call her Liv. Olivia – Liv – is really funny. I like her instantly. She uses a lot of self-mockery and it is refreshing to see someone who doesn’t target others with their jokes, even the smallest ones.

Noah and Lena arrive not long before the beginning of the game. I move to let Noah sit next to Emma and I notice a tension between Noah and Amy. She is suddenly not talking anymore and she is the only person from the group he isn’t making eye-contact with. Given Noah’s reputation, I would guess that she is one of his past conquests, but I also don’t like to make unfounded judgments on people. It might be something completely different. Or it might be a coincidence.

“I sort of feel sorry for you,” Jen tells me.

“Why?”

“Noah is into sports and we girls have some hot boys to look at. Won’t you be bored?”

There is no way I am truthfully going to answer that. “It probably makes me a better friend than the rest of you, then.”

She looks a bit annoyed at my come back. I still don’t know what I think about Emma, but I know that I don’t care for Jen. To me, it seems like it would be so easy for her to become a proper mean girl. What was even the point of her comment? Lena isn’t into sports, but I don’t think she’s checking out the boys either. Baseball isn’t the best sport for that…

Noah’s eyes find mine. He looks amused, but not in a mocking or patronizing way. I think he likes that he understands the hidden layer in her comment and he partly sees it as another thing that I shared only with him.

That annoys me. It isn’t ‘our thing’, it’s not something we share. I didn’t come out to him. I was caught crushing on him. It can’t turn into a bonding experience. If he is going to pretend that nothing happened – which is exactly what I want – he shouldn’t do it halfway.

He sees that this isn’t going to be a bonding moment for us and he focuses back on the game.

I was told that Austin is good. I even saw it at his tryouts. Yet tonight is a complete surprise. I totally understand the decision of not putting him on the bench (if that’s even the correct terminology for baseball…)

I am not into sports, I find baseball boring, and yet… my eyes don’t leave him when he’s playing, I am cheering and holding my breath with the rest of the crowd. Not out of mimicry, but because I genuinely care about what is happening in front of me. How crazy is that?

I comment on what’s happening, I have a conversation with people out of my usual circle of friends, I could even say that, for a moment, I feel like I am a part of a community.

When the Eagles win, I feel a genuine joy explode in my chest. I am proud of them like they did this for me, or as if I had anything to do with it…

I came for Austin, to be a good friend, and because that seemed to be a bit of a tradition and an event. I will, however, come to the next game because I know I will have fun.

Who could have guessed that?

Who even is this new me?

My dad will never believe that. If we ever talk about it, that is.

As we all wait for Austin in the parking lot, Emma turns to Noah and asks him: “Austin delivered an Eagle victory… that means party. Will you be my plus one?”

He looks at her with tenderness in his eyes and a happy smile on his face.

“Absolutely!”

And he kisses her.

I look away a second too late. I saw. And it burns more than I thought it would.


	12. The party

Parties aren’t particularly my thing. I am more of a small gatherings kind of person. I can tell that Austin is popular because this is definitely not a small gathering. I don’t know most of these people. I’m pretty sure some of them aren’t even from our school.

In my old school, I used to go to parties with Matt and Tiana. The three of us were pretty much inseparable and as long as one of them was with me, I never had to worry about fitting in. It is not really an option today. Austin can’t really just hang out with me. It’s his victory party. Everyone wants to congratulate him and I think that he also wants to celebrate with his teammates. Lena stayed with me for a while, but she knows pretty much everyone, so I wasn’t going to make her babysit me or follow her like a puppy.

After all, maybe it’s my chance to socialize a little bit. Extend my comfort zone.

It should be so easy. And it is, in a way. I don’t really have anything interesting to say, so I ask questions instead and let the conversation grow from there. People usually like to talk about themselves. It works quite well.

I still feel so out of touch with everyone else in the room. I want to be here, I want to be accepted and part of me craves these social interactions. But I don’t know if I belong. I obviously don’t want to find a girl to make-out with. I want to drink but I don’t seek being drunk. I don’t want to do drugs, not even smoke a joint. Does that make me uptight? Or weird?

After a couple of hours, I am contemplating going home. I don’t know where Lena is and I don’t think Austin would notice. I came, it was fun, but I’m getting bored, it is starting to feel a bit forced, and I don’t understand why I should stay just because people are supposed to like parties. Maybe in a few months, when I know more people, it won’t feel as awkward and I’ll be able to properly enjoy it.

But… would that be rude? I should find Austin or Lena and tell them that I’m leaving. That way I don’t just disappear on them. That sounds like a fair plan. If they ask why, I can always tell them that I’m not feeling very well. That’s close enough to the truth.

I look in the garden first as it’s the last place I saw Austin. He’s not there, but Amy is sitting on the swing seat, frantically typing on her phone. She puts it away when she sees me.

“Hey, Will! Come sit with me?”

I really don’t want to. I don’t understand why I say “sure,” before joining her.

“So what’s up with you?” she asks me. She has a drink in hand and she sounds slightly inebriated.

“Nothing much. I’m looking for Lena. Or Austin.”

“And which one would you rather find?” she asks me. There is something in her tone that I don’t understand.

“I don’t know. Either.”

“Sure…” She stares at me and I notice that her eyes have slightly different colors. I don’t remember the name for it. “So… Will… how was the game?”

“You were there,” I comment.

“I know that,” she replies like I was a complete idiot. “I go to every game. Go Eagles. But that was your first one, wasn’t it?”

“It was. I liked it. It was more fun than I thought it would be.”

“Because of the hot boys you could look at?” she asks.

My heart stops and my head turns so fast that I hurt my neck. “What?” I wish that my voice didn’t crack just there.

“I saw your face when Jen made that comment about the hot boys. I also saw how you look at _someone_ when you think nobody’s watching…”

“Amy, I… I’m not… it’s not…”

“Oh, relax, I won’t tell him. Trust me, I have the exact same crush on the exact same person. I won’t tell him anything. Not that he would care anyway…” Then she stares at me a bit more intensely. “Oh… it’s not the crush that’s the problem… you’re not out, are you?”

I probably look like a deer caught in headlights right now. She tilts her head and frowns. She looks annoyed, in a way. I don’t know why but it makes me feel better.

“Oh, shit… sorry… I obviously understood that you were discreet about it, but I didn’t know you hadn’t… it just made my shitty comment even bitchier…”

“So… you were trying to be a pain but not a total bitch?” I ask her. This is really not what I should be focusing on right now.

“Yeah… something like that. To be honest, I’m a bit of a bitch, but I wouldn’t mess up with that. I’m sorry. It wasn’t mine to figure out.”

“You’re really not what I expected you to be.” It’s true. I had literally zero expectations for Amy but if I did, I would have thought she was going to be a Jen at best. I can’t say that I know Amy yet, but at least I can say that she has more depth.

“I know… it would be easier if people were just black or white, right? Turns out some of us are gray.”

“I’ve never heard anyone refer to them as gray before,” I comment.

“You think you’re perfect?”

“No, I don’t think anyone is perfect. But I think everyone believes that they are a better person than they actually are.”

“You might be right,” she agrees. “I’m gray. Whether that makes me a realist or a worse person than I care to admit, that’s another story…”

“You seem pretty decent,” I tell her. I mean it. Enough to ask: “Am I that obvious?”

“Not really, no. it’s just… I think I notice things when it comes to Noah.”

She said his name… I didn’t think she would. I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help my next question. “Doesn’t it hurt to see him with your friend?”

She shrugs. “A bit. But I mainly find her pathetic. The way she talks about her relationship is so detached from reality that it’s sad, really…”

“Not Emma’s biggest fan?”

“On the contrary. I’m Emma’s biggest fan. But I have no idea who that girl is right now. She has been reduced to being Noah’s girlfriend and that’s just… what’s another word for sad and pathetic?”

“Pitiable?”

“Sounds good. I’ll take that.”

“Have you told her? Not in those words, obviously, but… If I were losing myself for… a boy,” it’s the first time I’ve said anything like that out loud, and it’s to a self-proclaimed bitchy cheerleader with mean girl tendencies who just threw her friend under the bus, “I think I’d like my friends to tell me.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t talk about Noah. No one talks about Noah around me. Not since homecoming.”

“Oh, not that again… what the fuck happened at homecoming?”

For a second, I don’t think she’s going to answer me. Then she says, “I got the guy.” That’s clearly not the entire story. But I was right, I guess. Something did happen between them. “Okay, I need the toilet,” she says, ending the conversation. “But don’t worry. That thing that wasn’t mine to find out… Until you officially tell me, I promise I don’t know anything about it.”

I don’t know if she really needs the toilet or if the homecoming topic made her uncomfortable, but she leaves and I know I shouldn’t wait for her to come back. This whole conversation was surreal…

I go back to my original plan to find Lean or Austin and make a swift exit. It’s not going much better this time either because as soon as I step into the house, someone calls out my name. Who am I kidding? Not _someone_. Noah. I know his voice like it’s my favorite song by now.

I turn around and I see him, gorgeous as ever, with his happy smile. I don’t even know when he arrived. I’m not even happy that he might have been looking for me. Right now, I only see the boy who did something everyone knows but no one talks about at homecoming, who dates a girl he might not be good for, and who will never like me back.

In this instant, I don’t want to spend time with Noah. I just want my pills. But the living room is much more crowded than the garden was, and I am not going to beg for them with an audience.

“Hey, Noah… Can I talk to you for a second? In private.”

“Sure,” he answers immediately. He finishes his drink in one gulp, leaves his cup on the coffee table, and tells me to follow him.

Apparently, he knows Austin’s house quite well – probably from the parties. Actually… probably from Emma, but I like the other reason better.

We end up in the laundry room. I guess no one will come here and it’s the best place to talk in private. The room isn’t that big so I sit on the dryer to make sure that the space between us is big so he doesn’t find the proximity uncomfortable and Noah leans against the door.

He looks at me with his soft lopsided smile that tells me that he is amused by the situation but that he is going to give me all the time I need to say what I have to. It’s almost magic, in a way. As soon as it’s just the two of us, I’m not annoyed anymore. My irrational anger fades away and I feel safe and understood again. I equally love and hate this hold he has on me…

I really don’t need to drag this on.

“I’ve been thinking and…” his eyes sparkle as I pause. For the first time, I have the feeling that Noah doesn’t read the situation properly and he doesn’t actually know where this is going. “I would like to get my pills back.”

His smile disappears. He looks surprised for a second but then composes himself and simply replies: “No.”

“What? Why?”

“At least three reasons.”

“Such as?”

“You’ve been drinking. I’m not giving you your pills back so you can mix drugs and alcohol.”

“It’s not for tonight.”

“Sure,” he replies and his tone clearly states that he doesn’t believe me. “Reason number two, then. Have you talked to your doctor yet?”

“Noah…”

“Of course, you haven’t. Because if you did, he or she would have written you another prescription. That was our deal. If you want to take pills again, you will follow the strict indications of a professional and not the mood of the day.”

He’s right. I know he is. I hate that feeling of being an idiotic child that he has to parent. Who am I kidding with my ridiculous crush? I should be happy enough that Noah agrees to be my friend when I’m this pathetic.

I can’t focus on that now. Not in front of him, not without the pills. So I ask: “What’s the third reason?”

His smile is fully back now. “As it happens, I don’t walk around all day with your pills on me.” Right. How many times am I going to look like an idiot in that conversation?

“But we can talk about it,” he says.

“Talk about what? The pills?”

“No, not the pills, you goof. Whatever makes you want to take the pills in the first place. We can talk about that.”

This boy is perfection. He always knows exactly what I need. And, right now, even in the middle of a party, I would have taken the offer had it come from someone else. Almost anyone else. Lena. Austin. At this point, even Amy. Actually, especially Amy. She would get it. But I can’t take it from Noah. I can’t tell him about the thoughts that are spiraling constantly in my head… How can I tell Noah that I am struggling because I can’t let Noah go?

So I remain vague. “There are just too many things on my mind. Some that just won’t go away.”

“Bad things?”

“Not necessarily. Just… things that I can’t stop thinking about and it’s tiring. I just want to stop thinking for a while.”

I need Noah to stop asking questions. I know that when he asks, I answer. And, again, I really don’t want to tell him that one of the things I want to silence is him.

“I don’t know about no thinking,” he replies. “But I completely understand having something that keeps coming back in your head, relentlessly.”

I don’t know why, but there is something in his tone right now that gives me goosebumps. I have no idea what Noah is about to share, but something tells me it’s important.


	13. The kiss

“You do?” I ask.

“Of course, I do. That happens to everyone.”

“But other people cope with it,” I say. It’s a fact, isn’t it? We all have parasitic thoughts. I’m the weak one running after pills because I can’t find a way to talk to my parents about Peter, because I don’t have the strength to call of email Matt about what happened so we can both leave it behind us, or because I am obsessing over a guy that I can’t let go off…

I was even taking the pills wrong on purpose. Because I hate the way I am when I take them. But I’m not sure I like myself more without them.

“Don’t compare yourself to others,” Noah tells me. “We all have things we’re good at and others we wish we could do as well as others. It’s dead easy to focus on those things. Try to think of things you do better than anyone. Or other people who struggle on the same things as you.”

“I’m not quite sure I can think of either right now.” Why do I keep whining? I didn’t drag him her so he can be my new shrink. I need to convince him to bring the pills to school on Monday, find one of my friends, and leave this party. It’s clearly not my night.

“Fine. I’ll do it for you, then. You’re very good at tutoring me. Honestly, I think you’re the first-ever person who managed to improve my grades consistently. And I am very aware of the time it takes you. So in case I haven’t said it before, thanks.”

“Yeah, well… I drag you to laundry rooms during parties, so I guess we’re even.”

“It happened just once, and I’m pretty sure I dragged you here,” he replies. “And this might be better than what’s out there anyway. It gives me a chance to tell you about people who struggle with the same things you do. You’re saying that your thoughts are a bit much at the moment. I happen to have this one thought that keeps switching between the back and the forefront of my mind, never actually leaving… See? I have things I’d like to silence too. If I don’t get to use your pills to do so, neither can you.”

“Things like what?” I ask, knowing that he probably won’t bother answering me. But when his eyes find mine, he looks serious and I am almost shivering. Is he really about to answer? I can’t believe that Noah – who everyone agrees is the most private person – is about so share something personal with me. It makes me feel special. Just like that day when he told me about his tattoo. This time again, it is extremely confusing.

“Do you remember the last time I was at your house?” he asks me. Of course, I do. Who could forget making such a fool of themselves? But it’s clearly a rhetorical question because Noah just carries on: “there is this one thing that happened, that could so easily have been nothing, that should have been nothing, that I should have disregarded by now, but which has been haunting me since.”

Is he talking about me staring at his lips? Although it wasn’t the only noteworthy moment, it’s the only one that could still be troubling him. Is he going to tell me that he’s not comfortable hanging out with me anymore? Is it going to be worse? Is it going to become another Matt situation?

I need to damage control this.

“Noah, if it’s about… that weird moment before you left… it was really nothing. Please, just forget about it. I just…”

My words get lost in my mouth. I am completely silenced by how close Noah is suddenly and how he is looking at me. He is standing right against the dryer, between my legs, and one of his hand flies to my neck, thumb on my cheek. I don’t think my brain is working anymore.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” he replies. And then he’s kissing me.

Instantly, something happens in my stomach, violent and painful, yet the best thing I’ve ever experienced.

This is beyond messed up. His girlfriend is on the other side of the door. That’s not even the most messed up part. The worst part is that I don’t care. About any of it. I don’t care about being caught, I don’t care about disrespecting her, I don’t care that I’m giving away what’s left of my dignity, I don’t care about being hurt when Noah is done with me…

His lips are far too intoxicating. I know that the high I’m feeling now is worth any low that might come next.

When his lips detach from mine, I think that this is it. Noah had his little experiment and he is about to go back to his life like he didn’t completely turn my world upside down.

But his lips don’t disappear. They move down my jaw, all the way to my neck.

My hand lands on the back of his head, keeping him close, caressing his hair too short to grab. His hands fall on my waist and he pulls me even closer.

His lips are back on mine and I am overwhelmed by all the things I _want_ right now…

“Noah… wait…”

He moves back ever so slightly and looks at me, a gentle question in his eyes. I can see that he cares, he wants to know why I stopped him, but I can also tell that the really wants to kiss me again. This realization is larger than the world and twitches my stomach once more.

Between the way he gazes at me – that I will probably never forget – and the sheer beauty of his amber eyes, I know I just fell in love.

I could just reach out and kiss him again. I _know_ he’d let me. How crazy is that? How did that even happen? Ten minutes ago…

But I have also become an expert at putting what I want and what I need second, so I power through and ask: “What are you doing?”

“I pulled you in a laundry room and I am making it more interesting than what’s out there,” he replies with a mischievous smile. I’m pretty sure I could die for that smile. But his answer just pointed out the problem. I don’t care about what’s out there, but he should care about _who_’s out there.

“What about Emma?”

His smile fades instantly. It’s almost heartbreaking. But it’s also necessary. He sighs, letting his head rest on my shoulder and his hands fall on my thighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not fair on her. I’m not fair on you.”

He takes a step back and puts a polite, distant smile on his face. Whatever just happened is over. I just don’t know if it’s forever.

“I should go,” he tells me. I nod. He leaves. I stay there like an idiot, completely unable to put words on the way I feel. I’m partly deliriously happy, partly sad and empty. It’s probably what happens when you get what you were dreaming of and it gets taken away from you…

It takes me five more minutes to pull myself together enough to leave the room.

This time, whether or not I find Lena or Austin, I am out of here.

I nearly bump into Amy as I leave the room. This morning, I barely knew her name, and now she’s everywhere… “Excuse you!” she exclaims, annoyed. Then she recognizes me. “Oh, it’s you. What were you doing in… Hey, Will? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I… I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

I look at her and, because she is the only person in the world who could get it right now, and even though every cell in my body is yelling me not to, I say: “I got the guy.”

“Oh…”

She looks less surprised than I thought she would. It’s crazy enough that Noah might be into a guy, but that he would be into _me_… why isn’t her jaw on the floor right now?

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks.

“Yes, please.”

As we cross the living room to leave the party, Emma finds Noah. She wraps her arm around him and kisses him. He lets her. I ignore every feeling in my body and I follow Amy’s lead: I pretend I don’t see anything.

I am suddenly hit by the memory of the game and how Amy and Noah don’t even look in each other’s direction. Is that going to be Noah and me now? Have I made things worse for myself? Am I _ever_ going to stop being an idiot who just makes the worst possible decision _every single time_?

Apparently, Amy can tell that I’m spiraling because she takes my hand. I hold it tight and we finally make it out of the house.

We walk in silence for a while. I’m pretty sure none of us is living that way. We end up sitting on swings in a park. The sign clearly says that it’s only for ‘children under 14’, but I don’t care for so many reasons.

“Are you more happy or hurt?” she asks me after a while.

That is a very good question. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll know until the morning.”

“None of the happiness will be there in the morning,” she tells me. That terrifies me, but I know she’s right.

“Am I an idiot?”

“Absolutely. But so is Noah. And so was I.”

“I’m sorry about Emma,” I say.

“She’s the biggest idiot of all,” Amy replies. “She should have known it was coming. True, I wouldn’t have pictured _you_, but still… It’s even surprising that it took him that long!”

I remember Noah telling me that he had been faithful to Emma. Did that really change just now with me? “Did I just turn Noah into a cheater?”

“Did you two go all the way?” There is no unhealthy curiosity in her tone.

“No.”

“Then you’re fine. You didn’t turn Noah into anything. Noah was always Noah. And you… You kissed him at a party. It happens. You only need to check your moral compass if you kiss him again before he breaks up with her.” Wait… break up? Is that a possibility?

“Did you?” I ask her. “Go all the way? With him?” That is absolutely none of my business.

“I did.” She doesn’t develop and I don’t ask. I already don’t think that I should have asked in the first place. It is a bit underwhelming in a way. So that’s what happened at homecoming? Noah had sex with a girl. I don’t really see how that’s such a big deal.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Austin that completely takes me aback.

“What?” Amy asks. I probably look as shocked as I feel.

“Apparently, people saw us leaving the party holding hands and gossip has spread. Austin is pretty much asking me if we’re a thing of if it’s a fling…”

She takes my phone and I let her. She reads the text and smiles. “People just love putting their noses in other people’s business, don’t they?”

“I don’t think Austin is looking for gossip,” I defend him.

She hands me back the phone. “No. But he wasn’t in the room when we left. So someone else told him. I get that as your friend, he would ask you, but what did that other person want?”

She has a point. Oddly, I don’t think about Austin. I think about Noah. Surely he would know that the rumors aren’t true. Unless he thinks that I moved on that quickly, either out of spite or because our moment wasn’t important to me. Could Noah think that about me?

“What do you want me to tell Austin?” I ask Amy.

She shrugs. “Nothing. Let’s just wait until Monday and just look at people assume things.”

Right now, that actually sounds fun. “You know,” I tell her, “if things were a bit different, I’d happily be the guy who had a thing with you at a party.”

“A little bit different… so no girls at all?”

I shake my head. Girls, with all the quality they have, with their specific beauty, with their aura of mystery, even with the way society sexualizes them… have never attracted me. Of course, as a child, I pictured myself marrying a girl, but that didn’t follow me through my teenage years. “No. No girls. But I suppose it’s better to get this rumor than the truth coming out…”

“Nice choice of words,” she tells me. “Look… I’m pretty sure no one knows about whatever happened between you and Noah, but if you’re afraid people could find out… you could always not deny what people are saying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d totally be your beard if you need one.” My brain stops working for a minute. “You do know what a beard is, right?”

“Yes, Amy, I know what a beard is. I have the Internet too. But… why would you do that?”

“I don’t know. I think I experienced a platonic love at first sight thing with you and your lost puppy eyes…”

‘Platonic love at first sight’. That might actually describe very well the progression of my relationship with her from ‘I barely know her name’ to ‘potential fake girlfriend’ in the space of an evening.

“I don’t think I need to hide the truth behind a pretend relationship,” I tell her.

“No, you’re right. Why would you when Noah already does?” Right where it hurts.

I sigh and look at my phone. It’s barely midnight… How long ago did this party start? From here, it feels like six months…


	14. Homecoming

Amy was only partially right. In the morning, most of the happiness did fade away. But there is still this warm glow in my chest.

Even if he is in a relationship, even if he might have been carried away by the moment, even if it might already be in the past, the truth remains the same. Noah kissed me. It’s too big to even comprehend. I don’t know if he’s gay, or bi, or… whatever other label, but I know that, even for the briefest moment, he chose me.

Just remembering the way he looked at me churns something in my stomach. He looked at me like I was precious and desirable. I think it would be a lot to be looked at this way by anyone, but it was so overwhelming coming from Noah. Now that it happened, I can admit how hard I wished for this.

And the kiss… it wasn’t just a tentative peck. I recall his lips on my neck and it makes me shiver.

But, of course, those memories aren’t the only ones that keep playing in my mind. I also remember how Emma’s name – as it should have – was enough to pull him away from me, and that as I was still trying to ground myself back from our kiss, he was back into her arms, like nothing happened.

I don’t know if that was because of the situation or if that’s just Noah. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him and I am just reading in the moment the feelings I wish he had… When these thoughts cross my mind, then the happiness recedes, until it’s almost entirely gone, just like Amy said.

And yet, it never dies out entirely. The glow is still there, faint but warm…

All weekend, I half-answer Austin and Lena’s texts. Yes, I am fine; yes, I left with Amy; no, we are not ‘a thing’ now; no, I don’t want to get coffee.

I really don’t want to socialize this weekend. I want to stay in, alone with my memories and my crazy suppositions for the future.

Noah is a good person. I know he is. I’m pretty sure it means that he told Emma about the kiss. I don’t know how much he told her. I have no idea if he included me in the conversation. I am fine either way. Of course, I’d like to be able to figure things out before other people know about me, but… I am also ready to take responsibility for what I did.

Emma will hate me. I understand that. How will that affect my relationship with Austin? Would he pick a side? If he did, it would surely be his twin sister’s. I would hate to have Austin resent me. And what if that means that Lena takes his side as well? She isn’t Emma’s biggest fan but I know she would like what I did even less.

But the question that obsesses me the most is this one: what does that mean for Noah and Emma? It will either bring them closer or break them apart. And if they break up, will that be because Emma can’t forgive Noah or because he wants something different?

It is incredibly arrogant to even think that Noah might leave his girlfriend for or because of me, and yet I can’t help but hope.

I am a bit ashamed by the ease with which I can dismiss Emma, her experience, her relationship, and her feelings. I am sorry if anything I did hurt her. Not enough to take it back even if I could.

Monday morning, my heart beats wildly. So many questions are going to be answered today.

If Noah shows up, of course. I almost expect him not to. The first person to find me is Lena. “Hey, you.”

“Hi. Did you have a nice weekend?”

She glares at me. “Yes, I had a nice weekend. But I am not the one who disappeared halfway through a party holding a girl’s hand…”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Are you sure? Because Amy is a bit…”

“I don’t need to know what Amy’s like,” I interrupt her. “I’ll decide for myself what Amy’s like.”

Lena looks surprised and a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, of course… I didn’t mean…”

Austin joins us, taking her out of her misery. “Well, well. If this isn’t Mr. I Don’t Even Say Goodbye…”

“Trust me,” I reply, “I _actively_ looked for you before leaving.” At least that part isn’t a lie. I kept being interrupted but I did look for them.

They both start telling me what I missed at the party – nothing that I wish I stayed for – and the conversation ends before any of them mention Noah or Emma. I guess they didn’t break-up…

Noah didn’t skip school. When I arrive in English, he is already there. I sheepishly smile at him and he smiles back. It could make me happy, but… I don’t know… it seems a bit forced.

I shake the feeling off and take my seat.

During the entire hour, I try my best to not think about Noah, about his lips, or about laundry rooms. Paradoxically, the only thing that can empty my mind is the tiny constellation of freckles on the nape of his neck.

My obsession is more pathetic now than it’s ever been…

Lunch gives me all the answers I need. Noah eats with Emma and her friends. Given the way she smiles at him, he hasn’t told her yet. Or, maybe, he hasn’t told her and doesn’t intend to. Either way… message received. What happened at the party didn’t matter to him.

If I’m being honest with myself, I knew it was coming. It still burns. I never felt so small, invisible, and insignificant.

I run into Noah when leaving school. He looks surprised to see me on my way out. “Hey! Didn’t we have a study session planned?”

He can’t be serious, can he? “Yeah, well… I just thought we might skip this one.”

His face falls a bit. “Is it about what happened at the party?” _The kiss_. He can’t even say it. I nod, unable to speak or to look at him directly. “Look, Will… that was nice, but you were right. There is Emma and the whole thing is messy and complicated.”

“Right. How did she take it when you told her?”

His face is completely closed off now. “Why would I tell her? I don’t see the point in hurting her unnecessarily. Just for a slip. Besides, I couldn’t expose you like this.”

_A slip_. Right. But what annoys me the most is that he hides behind me to excuse his cowardice. “You didn’t have to say it was me.”

“Will… Can we please forget about it?”

Borrowing his exact words, I reply: “I don’t want to forget about it.” For the smallest second, I can see in his eyes that we understand perfectly. He knows what I want and I know he won’t ever give it to me. Still, like an idiot, I keep pushing. “It’s not like the two of you are doing great anyway.”

“Whoah, whoah, stop there. Let’s not mix-up my thing with you and my thing with Emma. You don’t have the right to emit judgment on anything that happened between her and me before our incident. Actually, you don’t have the right to judge our relationship, period.” I know he’s right and I’m a bit ashamed right now. But then he adds, “Look, Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I got carried away by the moment and if I gave it any kind of thought, I wouldn’t have done that.” He still can’t say it. “But trust me… it’s for the best. I’m not good for you.”

“You can’t decide that on your own.”

Suddenly, and I don’t know why that sentence triggered that, he seems annoyed. Almost angry. “Fine. You want to know who I am? You want to know why I’m bad for you? I’ll tell you about homecoming. You know Lisa? The cute blonde from the orchestra? I heard from some guys that she was into me, so I asked her to the dance. When she said yes, I could see in her eyes that she had been hoping for this. She wanted me to invite her, but I also think that she hoped it meant I would be her boyfriend. It didn’t even cross my mind to set things straight. On homecoming night, I was running late. So I didn’t pick her up and I just went to the school. I swear hand on heart that I thought she would meet me there. She didn’t. It turns out that she waited for me all evening. And while that sweet girl was waiting for me, do you know what I did? I slept with Amy, your new best friend Amy, in the first floor’s girls' toilets. Then I left the party with a third girl I don’t even remember the name of. Lily. Lucy. Rebecca… Something. You know what? I wasn’t proud of myself after that. I didn’t mind that much about what people were saying about me, but I was embarrassed that they were saying stuff about _them_ because of me. So I decided right then that I wouldn’t be who everyone thought I was, and I stayed away from girls for a while. Until this party at Austin this summer. I was a bit drunk, I was a bit high, and I kissed Emma. This was a stupid mistake, but it also was the best thing that could have happened. She was Austin’s sister, it’s not like I could just ditch her. And I actually like Emma, she’s nice. She has flaws, and I am very aware of them, but I also see all of her good sides and she is a great human being. Plus, what kind of hypocrite would I be if I disregarded someone because they’re not perfect? So I took the opportunity I was given to have a girlfriend, to not mess up, and I hung on to that. Until you. Now tell me: who was I most a dick to when I kissed you at Austin’s party? You or her?”

I don’t know what to reply to that. That doesn’t sound like the Noah I know. But that’s it, right there, isn’t it? I don’t actually know Noah. I created this picture of him in my head and I let myself fall for that.

“See? I’m not good for you. I’m not good for anyone. Just… find someone that deserves you. Be happy. I can’t do that for you.”

I almost grab his wrist. Not to try anything, just to comfort him. I stop myself before a single twitch. I’m not allowed to do that and it would just make things even weirder. Noah’s eyes fall on my hand anyway. Noah who always sees.

Noah sighs. “Maybe you’re right. We should skip today’s revision session. Actually, maybe we should skip all of them until things settle down. I’ll work on my thing with Emma and I’ll keep being the guy I’d like to be. And I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry if I confused you.”

I don’t know what I could reply to that. Tell him that he should break up with his girlfriend for me? Who would I be to ask him that? So what then? Ask him to still hang out? That would just be weird, confusing, and hurtful.

So I say nothing and Noah leaves.

This is now. The moment Amy was talking about. None of the happiness is left. Just regret and shame. The glow is gone, and I’m colder than I was before.

Oddly, this isn’t just about Noah.

My first kiss was an epic disaster. I ended up losing friends. I hoped that my second kiss would go better. It turned out even worse.

Maybe I’m just doomed. I should just give up on romance.


	15. The breakup

I thought that what happened with Noah would affect my mood more than it does. After a while, one probably gets used to pain and disappointment. Besides, it’s like the losses are getting smaller every time. What is the loss of a potential boyfriend compared to the one of your best friend? And what is a best friend compared to a brother?

If I could get over Peter, I’ll get over Noah.

Although… I’m not over Peter, am I?

Things get weird on Thursday. Austin is late to school. He’s usually always there first because Emma has cheer practice before school and they obviously come together. That on its own doesn’t mean much. She could be ill or something.

But then I see her between the first and second periods. It takes me a minute or two to realize why she seems different. I only notice because of the difference between her and Jen. Emma isn’t wearing any make-up. Not that she is usually wearing that much, but she seems less… ‘flawless’, for lack of a better term.

I don’t know if that means anything. I don’t know how much practice or make-up means to her.

It’s not just that, though. She also seems a bit down. Another fight with Noah?

Which I can’t really ask him. We’re not really speaking anymore – other than polite small talk when he has lunch with us – and he is also not in school today.

Besides, it’s none of my business. I need to give them the space they need, even in my head. More than that: I need to hope that they will work things out and come out of it stronger. Maybe that will buy me back some karma points.

If they’re having a fight at all. She might just have been running late this morning.

Lena and I sort of skip lunch. We are late on our new art project so we use the time to use the art studio instead.

“I did something crazy,” she tells me.

Me too, but I can’t tell her that. “Like what?”

“I texted James.”

“Who the hell is James?”

“He’s the barista.”

My head jerks up and she is blushing, stubbornly looking at her painting. “Really?”

“Yeah, I just… I don’t know… I was thinking that if I never try, then I’ll never know, and… that’s just sad, really.” She finally meets my eyes. “We should go for what we want, right?”

My personal history screams ‘no’. “Absolutely! So what did you say?”

“I lied to him.”

“Healthy start.”

“I wasn’t going to send ‘hey, I was thinking about you, can I please get a picture of what I imagine to be a very impressive six-pack’.”

“No, you shouldn’t send that. Ever. But there are PC ways to say that without lying.”

“Yeah, well… too late. I told him that I have to go see a show for my art class, that I didn’t want to hand the same paper as everyone else, and I asked him for advice on galleries in town.”

“Smooth. What did he say?”

“That he knows a really nice place and that I would to if only I went with him and his friends when he offered.”

“Ooh… he’s better than you at this!”

“I know! I felt so embarrassed that I just asked him for the address and I said that I would check it out.”

“That’s it? You should have added something like ‘and then we can talk about it’. Because you do realize that _we do not actually have that specific piece of homework_, right?”

“He never gave me the address anyway. He said that, if I wanted, he could plan another outing with his friends. And since I learned my lesson, I told him that it was a great idea and that I would definitely clear my schedule this time.”

“Nice. Well done you! What did he say?”

She’s blushing again. It’s crazy how love – or whatever you call that stage when you obsess about someone without any idea if they’re right for you or not. “He said ‘but fair warning, all my friends will be busy that day’. What does that mean?”

“I think he just asked you out on a date.”

“What should I say?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to say?”

“I don’t know. I sort of want to go, but… isn’t that how people get kidnapped?”

“By going to an art gallery with a barista that talked to you in public a million times?”

“You never know.”

“Sure. But I think you’re just looking for an excuse not to go.”

“It’s going to be awkward. Will, he’s clearly out of my league.”

“He doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Yes, but…”

“Okay,’ I interrupt her, “how about we go for coffee with Austin at some point this week, we invite James to join us when he’s on break, and we can see if there is chemistry or not.”

She seems somewhere between nervous and hopeful. “Would you do that?”

“Having coffee with you and Austin? Yes, I would do that.” I tone the situation down a little bit. I am not undermining anything, I just want her to stop panicking about something that’s going to be fine. Maybe even great.

I am almost surprised to realize that I am not jealous of Lena and her sweet blooming romance. Not even a little bit. On the contrary, I think I need it. I need someone to show me that it is worth it and that sometimes, people get the happy ending they wished for…

Amy grabs me on my way out of school. It’s not a figure of speech. Her hand grabs my arm like a pincer and she pulls me aside. She drags me just far enough to have a somewhat private conversation.

“Ouch. Aren’t cheerleaders supposed to be delicate?”

“Yes, we are. Just like you’re supposed to be into pink and glitters. But talking bout clichés such as the cheerleader and the gay best friend, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Why am I lowkey terrified?”

“I need _you_ to be _my_ beard.”

“What? Why?”

Amy frowns. “Haven’t you heard?”

Obviously not. “Heard what?”

“Emma and Noah broke up. Well… they call it mutual, but he dumped her, really. We spent most of the night on the group chat trying to tell her that she could do better. Which, let’s be real, she can.”

“Wait… they broke-up? Why?” I vividly remember Noah telling me that he would stay with her and try harder.

“Officially, he told her that they weren’t right together. You know, the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ crap. But officiously, that might have something to do with him playing seven minutes in heaven with a classmate at a party.” The look on her face says ‘Would you happen to know anything about that?’ and I am equally impressed and annoyed that she can be so sassy without even using words.

“He’s not leaving her for me if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“No.” She sounds serious suddenly. “But he might have ended the relationship because he knew it wasn’t what either of them hoped it would be, and I think they both knew it. That would actually be a quite decent thing to do. Even if it’s a too-little-too-late type of situation.”

I really don’t know how I feel about this. Did Noah really do what was best for Emma or was he just too much of a coward to come clean about what he did?

“Wait… what does that have to do with you and me pretending to be a couple?”

“Have you read Peter Pan?” It’s clearly not the answer I was expecting.

“No. I can’t say I have. I vaguely remember the movie, though.”

“In Peter Pan, they explain that fairies are neither good nor bad. It’s just that they are so tiny that they only have room for one feeling at a time.”

“Okay, that’s a very interesting trivia fact, but I’m still lost.”

“That was Emma yesterday. First, she was devastated. She kept asking us if we thought that it was because he was bored, if she did anything he didn’t like, if she wasn’t pretty enough… But then she went full berserk and the only she could feel was anger. She was saying that he was really different after Austin’s party, and that he probably picked up a slut there. In that story, you’re the slut, by the way.” I really didn’t need her to highlight that part. “And, of course, I was a bit dodgy about it. So, long story short, Emma thinks that Noah had a thing _with another girl_ at the party, and I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s me.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“I know. Do you want to go tell her that? See if she believes you? Or, no, wait, how about we tell her what – or who – Noah was really doing at the party?”

I know it would be the right thing to do. I am a hypocrite. I judge Noah for not coming clean to her, but here I am, considering to cover up our lie with another one…

“Look… you know I won’t rat you out,” she tells me. “But I would also really appreciate it if you gave me a way out …”

At the corner of my eye, I see Austin and Emma arrive on the parking lot. So I cup her face and kiss Amy, in front of everyone. People might not have been able to hear us but they definitely can see us. We make it last just long enough for people to notice and I let go of her.

“How was it?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“Your lips are soft,” I reply with a shrug.

“Anything happening down there?” I shake my head and she comments: “You might be the best boyfriend I ever had.” We both laugh. I could definitely do worse, in the fake girlfriends’ department…

I wanted my third kiss to be more successful than the first two. It’s still not the life-changing kiss I was hoping for, but at least Amy won’t run away.

All things considered, that might be an improvement.


	16. The girlfriend

When I reach my bike, Lena and Austin are waiting for me there, a knowing smile on their face. I know that Austin could see my kiss with Amy – that was sort of the point – but where does Lena come from? How fast does news travel? There can’t have been more than fifteen minutes since I got a girlfriend.

“So, Lena,” Austin starts, “do you remember when our friend told us that nothing happened when he left the party holding some girl’s hand?”

“I actually do,” she replies. Both of them are staring at me and seem to be having a lot of fun. “But do you know what I heard?”

“No,” he answers. “Please, do tell.”

“They have been spotted with their faces glued together…”

“Oh, but surely that’s just gossip. You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“I know. But I’ve heard it from someone quite trustworthy, actually.”

“Alright, alright,” I interrupt them. “Very funny.”

“So… how long have the two of you been sneaking around?”

I’m almost going to answer that it’s quite new, that it literally just happened, but then I remember that the point of all of this is to convince Emma that no one was fooling around with her man at the party. “We started talking at the game, actually,’ I lie. “And then… well, we left the party together. But we didn’t know what it was until now, so I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Not the kind to kiss and tell,” Austin comments. “I can respect that.”

“So is Amy going to join us for coffee now?” Lena asks. And she doesn’t sound hostile about the idea, quite the opposite. I think that my comment earlier made her reconsider her position on Amy and that’s what she’s telling me with that sentence. That she will get to know my girlfriend for who she is rather than the picture people depict. That she supports my relationship.

It would be the best feeling in the world if only the relationship was real.

“No, I don’t think so. I think we’re going to be the ‘you do your thing, I’ll do mine’ kind of couple. But she might join for lunch.”

As I leave the school ground, I notice a few people looking at me, and it seems that they are talking about me. It doesn’t bother me or make me self-conscious in any way. It’s not like in my previous school. This time, I know what they are talking about and I know that it’s harmless gossip rather than hateful or pitiful comments.

There might also be the fact that I cannot care about people emitting a judgment on me based on something that’s not real anyway.

Dinners at home are still not what they used to be but they are not uncomfortable anymore.

It’s not like it can go back to the way it way. We used to be four and now we are not. I wish I could ask my parents if they have any news of Peter but I am terrified that it would simply make us take a step back. As a family, I don’t think that we are ready to open that topic yet.

It’s odd. It’s like the only thing that could help us heal is also the thing that could tear us apart.

“So, Will, how was school today?” my mother asks. For once, it feels like she genuinely cares. It is not just a polite question asked because it’s what parents do at dinner.

I am desperate to give a proper answer to that question. I can’t just shrug it off and blurt out ‘fine’. I don’t want to discourage her from asking that question again. And that is probably why the words escape my mouth even if I know that it is a terrible, terrible idea. “I have a girlfriend.”

I always thought that the next logical step of me sharing anything about my love life with my parents would be coming out. But no, apparently I am the biggest idiot on the entire planet and I am spreading the Amy lie even wider. Even where it can actually cause damages.

My parents exchange a happy, relieved look, and I know that I will bitterly regret having done that. I’m pretty sure that they are relieved because they think that it is a sign that I am happy, that I settled down here, and that I am moving on from losing Peter and the clash with my friends that they noticed but never asked about. But Amy, as great as she is, is definitely not enough to balance all of that out…

“What’s her name?” my father asks.

“Amy.”

“That’s a pretty name,” my mother comments. “Do you have classes together?”

“No, but we have friends in common.” And then, as if it were any kind of accomplishment, I add: “She’s a cheerleader.”

My mother doesn’t seem massively impressed by this irrelevant piece of information, but my father looks appreciative. As if he was satisfied to have transmitted something manly enough for his son to date the archetype of the pretty girl.

If only he knew.

I don’t think my dad will be thrilled by my coming out, whenever that happens. Maybe if I do as well in the boy’s equivalent. A quarterback or something. Or a pitcher. No. I definitely can’t see my dad having this spark of pride in his eyes for an Austin, for instance. That can only be for an Amy.

As for Noah… the idea is laughable. Even without the girlfriend, even with more laundry room kisses, he is definitely not the ‘introduce me to your parents’ type of person. I mean… my parents met Noah a couple of times when he came to study, but that’s clearly not the same thing.

Maybe I should just keep dating Amy forever. We could get married and live the most wonderful lie.

I need to stop letting my mind go back to Noah all the time. That ship has sailed now. And I wasn't on it…

“What is she like?” my mother asks.

“She is very pretty. She is obviously sporty. She has ash-blond hair. She is smart, funny, and quite sassy. She stands up for herself and she doesn’t make excuses. She sees me for me. She understands me, I think.”

“Someone is in love,” my dad tells me with a wink.

In love? With Amy? No, I am not. I might have a mild crush on her, but it is entirely platonic. I might have been a little in love if girls were my thing. Maybe even in a world without Noah. But I am not about to fall in love with anyone when the first thing I see when I close my eyes are two amber eyes and three freckles.

“We’re not there yet, but I really like her.” Apart from the ‘yet’, this isn’t a lie. It’s definitely the best I can offer my parents right now.

“We should have her over for dinner,” my mother decides.

“Absolutely,” my father agrees.

Oh. That came back to bite me much quicker than I expected…

The next morning, Amy is leaning against my locker when I arrive at school.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

“Waiting for you like the perfect girlfriend that I am.”

“Why?”

“To sell the story. Or maybe because in spite of this ridiculous situation, you are my current favorite friend…”

I can’t help but smile. “Fair enough. I told Lena and Austin that you might have lunch with us. Do you want to join us?”

“Is Emma going to be there?”

“I don’t think so. She only came to be with Noah and now…”

“So I dodge Emma, but I’m stuck with Noah. That sounds like such a fun lunch hour.”

“He might not be in school.”

“I saw him on the parking lot.”

“Then I guess it’s perfect,” I reply. “Noah will be there and Emma will be able to witness that even when you are sitting at the same table, you are not interested because we will ridiculously focus on each other. And we will be mutual emotional support.”

“I don’t need emotional support to be around Noah,” she replies.

“Yes, you do. That’s literally the only thing we have in common.”

“And yet it was enough for love to bloom,” she says with a false enamored voice.

“Speaking of… I might have told my parents that I have a girlfriend…”

“Oh, so we’re going all in, are we?” I realize that I should definitely have discussed that with her _before_ doing it, but she doesn’t seem upset. “What did they say?”

“They want you to come over for dinner.”

“Really?” She genuinely seems surprised.

“Yes. You don’t have to do it.”

“No, I’ll do it. It sounds fun. No one ever introduced me to their parents before. No boy I was dating, I mean.” For the first time, I think that I might not be the only person with a shitty romance history. I feel sorry for her that I am the best she had. Just like I feel sorry for myself that this ridiculous relationship is by far my most successful one. “But I need you to do something for me too.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Take me on a date.”

“What?” I feel very uneasy suddenly. A date? Is Amy seeing more in this than it is? Than it can ever be? “Hum… Amy, this… I…”

“Oh, relax. I know you won’t fall madly in love with me and, I’m sorry to tell you that, I won’t either. You’re cute and all, but you’re even more of a mess than I am. I just want to have a nice evening out. Dinner and a movie, but without the stress of dinner and a movie.”

“Okay,” I say letting out a relieved sigh. “I’ll take you out. Something nice. Friday?”

“That sounds great. And I will be the greatest girlfriend you’ll ever introduce to your parents.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be the only girlfriend I’ll introduce to my parents.”

Again, with her first enamored tone: “Are you saying that you and I are forever?”

“Yes, Amy. That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying.”

“Okay… walk me to homeroom?” I nod and take her hand, exactly when Noah appears in the corridor. I think he saw us but he is too far for me to see his face. He probably didn’t react anyway. Why would he care?

We get our English essays back. I can’t help but glance at Noah’s. He got a D. it’s better than it used to be, but it’s not the standard he reaches when I help him out. Regardless of everything, I’d still like to help him. I think I made my peace with the fact that we won’t happen. Or, at least, I accepted it as fact. But I don’t know if he’d like my help or not.

I won’t offer. I don’t think I could handle him rejecting me as a friend as well as everything else.

Amy joins us for lunch. Noah too. Everyone has questions and we sort of half answer, dancing around the truth. We bonded at the party, we left together, we only became a thing yesterday. Technically, none of that is a lie.

Noah doesn’t ask anything. He just looks at me with his amber eyes that see more than they should. Can they see right through my BS? Does he care? Do I even want him to care?

None of this was done to make Noah jealous. But would I consider that a bonus? I don’t even know. As much as I feel attracted to Noah and would like to see that look in his eyes again, the one that said that he was almost desperate to kiss me again, I don’t think that I am ready or willing to handle more drama.

I am leaving school after working on my art project. I stayed later than Lena because she had to catch her bus.

It’s crazy how when you try to stay away from someone, you just see them everywhere. I pass in front of the library just as Noah is leaving it. He smiles at me and we walk toward the exit together.

I don’t know if it’s weird or not.

I glance at the book he is putting in his book. It’s a study guide for Lord of the Flies. Of course, he notices. “I’ll try to see if between everything I learned from you and this I can get a decent grade on the next quiz. Or essay. Maybe I can actually tutor myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” Although it stings a bit that he doesn’t need me anymore. Or, worse, that he doesn’t want my help.

After he knew that I had a thing for him, I was so glad that we managed to maintain the friendship. But then the party happened and here we are. Actually… would we still be here if I didn’t push things? If I just accepted that the kiss was all we would ever get and that he was Emma’s… maybe they’d still be together and I’d still have Noah in my life.

“So… you and Amy, huh?”

“Yeah… Noah, about that…”

He vaguely waves his hand. “It’s none of my business. Whatever is happening between the two of you… It’s not my place to even have an opinion about it.”

“Really? You can stop yourself from having an opinion on things?”

He has a gentle lopsided smile that I sort of want to touch. “No,” he replies. “I have not yet mastered that level of self-control. But I can totally keep them to myself.”

Still. I think I need him to approve of it to some extent. To know that I didn’t do this out of spite. “Look, I know that the two of you have history, but… it’s not why…”

“I know. That wouldn’t be you.”

We stop for a moment in the hall and he looks at me. As usual, I feel truly seen. It is quite an extraordinary experience. And this, right now, is when I understand that even if I will eventually be one hundred percent fine with not being able to claim Noah as my own, I will also never be able to let go of that feeling in my chest whenever we are together.

I know he can feel the tension too and he breaks it with an easy joke. “So… Are you and Amy starting a new ‘I hate Noah’ club?”

“Absolutely! We made badges. Do you want one?”

He laughs and replies: “I’d love one, actually.”

I toy with the idea for a minute. I might make him one this weekend if I have time. Who knows? It might even be cathartic.


	17. The dinner

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom so excited about anything. And I don’t mean since Peter, I mean ever. She is smiling, cooking, singing, asking a million questions about Amy. Most of which I don’t have an answer to.

Even if Amy really was my girlfriend, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t know her parents’ first names, how long she’s lived in this town, or if she prefers round or square plates. How is this last one even a valid question? Who cares about the shape of the plates?

I don’t tell my mother that. I just keep repeating I don’t know, like a student who didn’t revise for a test, and I feel proud and relieved whenever I can answer a question of hers.

“You don’t seem to know that much about her. Are you sure you are treating her properly?”

“Yes, Mom.” As much as anyone can treat a fake girlfriend. “But this is very new. We are still getting to know each other.”

“Does she make you happy?”

Okay, so… that’s actually a hard question. Absolutely not in the way my mother means. Amy doesn’t make my heart glow or whatever cliché like that. But she does make me happy to some extent. She is my friend, she is fun… she definitely makes my life a bit easier. The real question should be ‘Is my life better with Amy in it?’ That question I could answer. So I do. “Yes.”

My mom makes the same face she does when she sees a cute puppy and I feel very patronized. Somehow, it feels great. She is taking a genuine interest in my life.

Then I remember that she is taking a genuine interest in a lie and I feel a bit sick.

“Leave him alone,” my father says. “Can’t you see you’re making him uncomfortable? We should consider ourselves lucky already. When I was a teenager, I would have done anything to avoid introducing my girlfriend to my parents!”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” my mother replies, and they laugh. Much more than the laugh, it is the first time in ages that I see my parents bond over something.

In my head, I understand that this has been a journey and that this dinner alone is not what triggered this, it is just another step, but… in my heart, I am more grateful for Amy than I have ever been for anything else.

Amy is ten minutes late. I’m not going to lie, I expected her to be much later than this. She’s too laid back to be on time. I’ve even heard from a conversation between Emma and Jen that Amy is always late for practice and that the only reason the coach keeps her in the team is because she is an outstanding athlete.

It was also the first time I heard someone call cheerleaders ‘athletes’. I don’t know if they were glorifying their own sport or if I’m being judgemental over something I know nothing about. Maybe I should take an interest in my girlfriend’s extra-curricular activities…

I open the door and, for a second, I don’t quite know how to react. Amy is… not looking like herself. She is wearing a white shirt and some black trousers that probably come from a full pantsuit, the top half of her hair are pulled back in a very neat ponytail. She just seems…

“You look conservative,” I tell her.

“I look parent-friendly.”

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“Nervous? About meeting your parents? Absolutely. I mean… what if they don’t like me? Then you won’t ask me to Prom, and we won’t get married, and I won’t carry your babies…”

“Alright, shut up. Why do you look like you’re going to a job interview, then?”

“The point of all of this is to make sure that we both get everything we can from a relationship without any of the emotional crap that usually goes with it. So you keep Emma off my back, turn me into more than _‘that girl from homecoming’_, goes to the movies with me, and in exchange, I keep Noah away, I let you delay your coming out for as long as you need, and I help you tell your parents that you have a great girlfriend. Guess what? Tonight, I’m a straight-A student who wants to go to Princeton and I’ve never drunk or smoked anything in my life!”

I chuckle. “Okay, Miss Perfection. Come on in.”

Amy spends time helping my mother in the kitchen and Dad tells me how lovely she is and that he is proud I chose so well.

As dinner progresses, I can see that my parents just love Amy. My dad seems to like the fact that she is smart and pretty – I don’t know if she is a straight-A student or not in real life, but no one could call this girl stupid. My mother seems to like that she is polite – I’ve never seen her be so polite before, I didn’t even think that she had it in her – and that she is easy to talk to.

My parents talk, make jokes, tell embarrassing stories from when I was a kid that I would _die_ if an actual love interest heard… It almost reminds me of when Matt and Tiana used to come over for dinner.

For a moment, it feels like before Peter. As much as I don’t want to forget him, I am also desperate for this to not be an act. I want this to be a trigger. I want my parents back. not just today, but tomorrow as well and all the days after that.

But it also makes me a bit uneasy. I hate that Amy would be the trigger for this. Amy is obviously not the problem. The issue is the lie attached to it. As well as the big questions. Would things have turned out this way if I had brought a boy?

“So… Amy, do you have any siblings?” my father asks. I never hear adults ask that to other adults when they meet them, but yet they ask every single child or teenager they meet. I especially hate that question since I don’t have an easy answer for it anymore.

“No, I am an only child. Just like Will.”

“Will isn’t exactly an only child,” my mother replies, and my jaw drops. I’m quite happy that I wasn’t eating because I definitely would have choked on my food…

Amy looks at me. “You never told me that you have siblings! Brother? Sister? Both? Are they at college?”

“No, I…” My eyes keep glancing at my parents. My mother is gently smiling but my father seems uncomfortable. He is the one who doesn’t like Peter being mentioned. It feels like a crossroads. I could brush it off and keep Peter in the secret box we all put him in, or I could tell part of the story now and hopefully reopen the dialogue with my family. “I had a foster brother. Peter. He’s back with his mother, now.”

“Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Well, that’s a great story!”

I frown. It’s really not. “How so?”

“This boy needed someone to take care of him and love him while his mother sorted… whatever she needed to sort out, and now… he’s back where he belongs. I must say that I really admire your courage,” she adds talking to my parents. “We foster cats and dogs and it’s hard enough to have to give them back, so I can’t even imagine what it must be like with an actual family member… But you gave Peter a home when he needed one, that was very selfless, and I’m sure it will have helped him build himself.”

I had… never looked at it that way. I was so focused on the loss that I never stopped to think that she is his mother, that Peter might be happy, and that regardless of what we wanted, we were a part of his journey back to his mother.

My parents and I exchange looks. Amy seems to understand that she read the situation wrong but that simply apologizing or dropping the subject would make things even harder. So she gracefully finds a way to let my parents close the conversation: “Are you planning on fostering again?” That’s quite a smart question. All they have to do is say ‘no’ and we can all change the topic.

“We are thinking about it,” my father replies. _We are?_ I genuinely thought that my parents were done with it. That losing Peter was enough heartache for one lifetime. And I also never would have pictured that answer coming from _my father_. It is surprising enough that he would feel that way, but I really can’t believe that he just shared that at loud in front of a stranger. “But it’s complicated.”

“Why?” Amy asks. I am torn between asking her to shut up and asking her to move in.

“We fostered Peter for adoption, so we never thought he would have to go back to his family. We don’t really want to go through this again. And we need time to get closure. But Ann and I were talking, and we would like to try again. We are simply not sure if we want to go for adoption, going through different channels this time, or if we would like to be genuine foster parents. As you said, provide a home for children while they need it and help them go back to their families when they are ready. It can be a wonderful experience if entered with the right mindset.”

My mother smiles at me. “But we will need to discuss all of that as a family. It’s not something that will happen any time soon.”

There I am, one hundred percent flabbergasted by how little I know and understand about my own family.

After dinner, Amy ends up in my room. Before we left the dining room, my father took me aside to remind me to leave the door open. If only he knew how little risks of sexual intercourse there are, he probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“I am so sorry,” she tells me immediately. “I didn’t realize that family was a bit of a taboo subject…”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually… thank you.”

“What for?”

“I’m… not sure.”

She frowns, a bit confused, but lets it go.

“So? Do you need me to make the lie more believable? Leave my bra somewhere?”

“Please, keep your bra on.”

“Fine. If you want your parents to think that you’re a virgin.”

“I _am_ a virgin. It’s not a flaw, you know.”

She smirks at me. “I do. I just wanted to see if I could make you blush. I was so sure you would get all flustered.”

To be fair, I’m pretty sure I would have with anyone else. Maybe not Lena, but I can’t picture Lena bringing that up. Not like that anyway.

Amy looks around my room. I’m pretty sure that without Lena and Noah, it would still be bare, but they gave me the push I needed and I have added decoration and stuff since. I have started to embrace my new life.

She points at the art on the wall. “Any of those yours?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s mostly Lena’s.”

“They’re beautiful. She’s really gifted!” I like how naturally Amy is complimenting Lena. I don’t know, I just feel like Austin aside, people aren’t really good at just praising others. Especially if they are not direct friends.

Then she grabs a book on the shelf. She looks amused even before opening it do I look at the cover. It’s the yearbook from my previous school… “Is there an embarrassing picture of you in there?”

“Probably.” She stops on a page and her eyebrow lifts a bit. “How bad is it?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s not you. It’s someone you apparently hate.” She shows me the page. One of the pictures has been furiously daubed. “Who is that?”

“That’s Matt.”

“And why do we hate him so much? Is he your nemesis?”

“No, he was my best friend, actually.”

“Oh, there is a very good story there, I can tell! What happened?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m smart enough to comprehend the absolute riddle that your life used to be.”

“Don’t you have a curfew?”

“Yep. One more hour. So? Are you going to tell me what Matt did to deserve the sharpie treatment?”

“Do you promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Don’t you know me better than this by now?”

I do. And she might be the best person to talk to. If she understood the Noah situation, she’ll understand the Matt situation.

I take a deep breath. There I go, finally about to tell that story out loud.


	18. Matt

“He was my best friend in my old school. We had a fight and now we’re not talking anymore.”

“Wow. You’re _the worst_ storyteller I’ve ever met… Okay. Let me lead this. How did you two meet?”

“First year of elementary school. We sat at the same desk, we became playground buddies, and after that, we were inseparable. In high school, he became very popular. He was good at sports, he was funny, he was smart… He probably still is.”

“And you grew apart?”

“No. He was still my best friend. And I was his. He shared all the light with me. Which was for the best, because you’ve met me, I’m not the best socializer in the world…”

“People are overrated. I’d rather have one of you than twenty girls from my squad.”

“Why do you stay in the team, then?”

“Nice try. We’ll talk about me later. So… you and BFF. What broke your honeymoon? Did he ditch you for a girl?”

“No. He sort of included a girl in the group, but that wasn’t romantic. Tiana was all school and no boys. Except for the two of us. She called us ‘the only males worth it’.”

Amy’s eyes go wide. “Did you guys become a throuple?”

“A thr… No! How does your mind even build these scenarios in your head?”

She shrugs. “You are a very nice guy, and you are saying that the two of you were tight. So something quite massive must have happened to split the two of you up. And get him the Sharpie treatment. What did he do to you?”

“He didn’t do anything. It was me.”

“Am I going to finally have a glimpse at the darkness in your soul?”

“The pathetic at least…”

Amy’s face is serious again. “Is it that bad? Do you want to not talk about it?”

“It’s not that bad, I guess. It’s…” I take a deep breath. “Matt was obviously around when we had Peter. And when we lost him. He and Tiana were with me the entire time. Matt, especially. You know when people say ‘he was my rock’? Well, he was. A few days after the social workers took Peter away, we were in my room and he was letting me just… pour my heart out, I guess. For the first time, I even cried about the whole thing. Not full-on sobbing, but tears. And then… things got messy.”

“How so?”

“Well… I don’t know. He held my hand, probably to comfort me, we stared at each other, and… I guess I thought we were sharing a moment. It’s just… I didn’t even understand that I was gay. I think I knew, but I had never thought about it either. So when the feelings took over, they didn’t feel wrong or like something I should hide. So I kissed him.”

“Wow. Good for you.”

“No, not ‘good for me’. I completely misread the moment.”

“So he wasn’t into it? That’s it? You angrily scribbled over his face because he broke your heart? I can relate. I’ve actually killed Noah in my head many times and, technically, he didn’t even reject me.”

“He didn’t say no.”

Amy’s jaw drop. “So you got some action?”

“Please, stop guessing. You’re terrible at that. He did say no. But he didn’t _just_ say no. He pushed me back and the look on his face was just… it wasn’t shock, it was disgust.”

“Maybe he needed a bit of time. It’s never nice to be kissed by someone by surprise when you’re not attracted to them.”

“I know, I get that. And I was mortified. But I thought we would talk about it eventually. That we would shake the awkwardness and things would get back to normal. It almost felt right, in a way. To have shared this moment with Matt, even if it was an epic fail. That he would be a part of that discovery about myself. The moment it became real. I even convinced myself that the awkwardness was the price to pay for sharing this moment with Matt. I genuinely thought that he was going to help me navigate all of that.”

“Let me guess. He didn’t.”

“So you can guess right, after all…” That lame joke is a way for me to grab a few extra seconds before I have to relive what happened next. “When we went back to school, I felt the change immediately.”

“With Matt?”

“With everyone. I became a pariah. No one would talk to me anymore. I don’t think he told them what happened, because there weren’t any insults or homophobic comments, but people just ignored me. People knew we were in a fight even before I could realize that there was no saving our relationship, and they chose his side. Of course, they did. He was the popular one.”

“What about Tiana?”

“She told me that she was sorry, but that, really, she was his friend not mine. That did hurt me more than anything. Because until then I genuinely thought that we were a group. I even hoped for a minute or two that she would be the negotiator that would bring us all back together.”

“You know what? You didn’t lose anything. Matt doesn’t sound like a friend. He sounds like a little king that had a court and dismissed you when he decided you didn’t fit.”

“But it wasn’t like that. We really were friends before. Some of the things he did for me… you don’t do that for just a guy from school. So I felt ashamed and disgusting. Those feelings I had for boys… who I was… that was enough to destroy the strongest relationship in my life. There was that, and Peter was still gone, my Mom was crying in the bathroom every day and my dad just… became stern. In the midst of all of that, I was suddenly alone.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. I took pills for a while and that helped me to stop feeling.”

“You’re not taking them anymore?”

“No.”

“Good for you.”

Yeah… Good for me. But it’s not like I made that decision on my own. Noah gave me the strength to stop being stupid, and he refused to let me slip back. and things got messy between us, but he never blamed me for anything. Not who I am, not tempting him, not pulling back… And he didn’t make our drama public.

I have often compared my thing with Noah and my thing with Matt in my head, but they are completely different. I realize that now. Not just in the way they reacted, but for what they were. With Matt, I misread a moment, and I was curious more than anything. I don’t think I ever truly wanted Matt that way. Noah, though… I did want him. And that feeling when I knew he wanted me back… it still gives me butterflies now.

And yes, things got south, but I also know that Noah never hurt me on purpose. We were just dealt bad cards that we played wrong.

That’s when I know that whichever way Noah did or will screw up, I will always find it in me to understand and forgive him…

“Anyway,” I say to stop my train of thought, “that made moving so much easier. Plus, I came here with no expectations, and the universe just put Lena in my life from the first day. Then Austin. Then you. It’s been a good deal, if you ask me.”

“What about Noah?”

“I will reserve my judgment on Noah,” I tell her. I mean that. This weird thing between us still has the potential to evolve. For the better or for the worse.

“Noah was a great experience for you because, ultimately, it got you the best girlfriend.”

“True,” I agree. In terms of girlfriends, I won’t ever do better. Not that I plan on having any other girlfriend, ever.

“So. Do you have any pictures of Matt? Sharpie-less pictures, I mean.”

“Why?”

“So if one day I see him on the street, I can spit on him.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m just curious. I want to see who got your first kiss. After all, as your girlfriend, it is my privilege.”

I get the last box out of the cupboard and I get pictures out. Amy looks at them with interest. “Well, he’s hot, I'll give you that. Although, you have better tastes now.”

“Because you’re perfect?”

“Well… yes. But I actually meant Noah.” I know we’re both into Noah – or have been – so her words don’t mean much, but… she is right. Noah is an upgrade. Not just physically. “And who’s that?” she asks. “Is it Peter?”

“It is.”

“He’s so cute.”

I smile softly. “I know.”

“Do you want to talk to me about him?”

“No. Not today, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.”

I think I want to stop always linking Peter and Matt in my head. Both events were painful, and they happened around the same time, but… they were so different. And I’d like to forgive and forget Matt. I don’t ever want to forget Peter. I want to cherish the memory of him. I can’t achieve these different goals if I keep thinking of them as a package deal.

Amy looks at her phone. “Fifteen more minutes before I have to go. Do you know what we could talk about?”

“No, what?”

“The big date you owe me.”

“We never said ‘big’.”

“No, but I totally nailed meeting your parents, so I deserve a magical evening.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“How are you going to treat me, then?”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Sounds good. But I pick the movie.”

“Then I pick the restaurant.”

“Deal.”

We shake on it.

“We need a secret handshake,” she decides. “That could replace our goodnight kiss…”

I snort. “Don’t I have the best love life?”

“Well… At least in our relationship, we can talk about our feelings, have an intellectually challenging conversation, and have fun. That might be better than sexual chemistry.”

“Definitely. Let’s stop looking for more. For our date, let’s get married,” I tease her.

“At least that would surprise even cool, composed Noah.”

That is very true. But I still hope that I wouldn’t need that to get Noah to notice me again. Not that it’s what I want. I’m fine. I moved on.

If I tell myself that enough time, it will become true, right?


	19. Snow

It took its time, but winter is here. Christmas songs start playing everywhere, festive decorations start appearing, and the roads get icy in the morning. I have to be very careful in the morning. Soon, I will have to go to school on foot. Or maybe find someone to car share with. But that would imply socialization and I’d rather pass… Lena takes the bus, Austin lives across the city, and there is no one else I am willing to spend time with in an enclosed space.

Except for Amy, but she already car pools with some girls from her squad.

I don’t mind. Walking will give me some extra time to think.

I lock my bike pretty much just as Noah gets out of his car.

“You like to live dangerously,” he comments.

“You know me. On my way to be a stunt double.”

He laughs but there is nothing nasty about it. “Of course. Will the adrenaline junky!”

“Hey, I was a bit bored yesterday, so I made this.” I get a few round badges out of my pocket and give him one. They have a small logo of my design, that somewhat resembles the shadow of Noah’s profile crossed out, and they clearly say ‘I hate Noah’.

He laughs again, and I like how happy and genuine it is. He gets it. I don’t mean it. It’s just a call back to that conversation when he mentioned it. It’s just a joke.

“I can't believe you actually made those! Although… I feel like the big piece of information is that you own a badge-maker.”

“Of course, I do. Like every adrenaline junky.”

“Obviously.”

Noah’s smile lights up his eyes and I have to make myself look away. I see Amy walking toward us.

“Hey, boyfriend. Hey friend of my boyfriend that doesn’t deserve him.”

“Good morning Amy,” he replies. Then he looks at me: “Did you give Amy her badge? I think she wants a badge.”

She looks at me with curious eyes and I give her one of the badges.

“That is now my most prized possession,” she decides, pinning the badge to her cardigan. That makes me panic a little bit. They were made as a joke, not really for wearing. But Noah’s eyes tell me ‘I don’t mind’. He even looks amused.

Of course, I won’t wear mine. That would only bring embarrassing questions. Officially, I have no reason to be mad at Noah.

“But, really, you should make one with Matt’s face,” she says. “Although, no. Don’t. That would be giving that scumbag too much credit. He doesn’t deserve that much effort from you. Alright, I have to go beg my geography teacher for an extension. I’ll see you at lunch!” She almost teleports away.

“I think she has too much energy for me,” I comment.

“And yet, I feel like you can keep up just fine,” Noah replies. There is something in his voice that I cannot read. Surprisingly, I don’t try to. I don’t seem to be able to detach my heart from Noah, but I can decide what my head does. And that’s letting go.

It works for a few days.

That Tuesday morning, when I get up, I realize even before getting up that I will have to skip breakfast. The world is too quiet. The kind of quiet that only comes with snow.

I open my blinds and, as anticipated, the world is covered by a perfect, smooth, glittery white coat. Or, should I say, a slippery, deadly, I have to leave half an hour early coat of hell. Not that I don’t like snow, I love it. During the holidays. Or the weekends. Or on a sick day.

I guess I just don’t like when my routine is derailed.

I get out of my house and immediately notice the car parked in from of it. Not that it is unusual for cars to park there, but because I know that car. I have been in that car before.

Noah gets out of his car as I walk down the driveway.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“It’s snowing.”

“You do weather updates deliveries now?”

He smiles. “No, you idiot. But you’re not going to cycle in the snow, are you? I know you’re an adrenaline junky, but I hope you’re not a stupid one.”

“I was going to walk.”

“Yeah, well. I’m here now. Do you want a ride.”

“That actually sounds very nice. Thank you.”

“No problem. Hop on.”

I am surprised when I realize that we’re not going to school.

“Noah?”

He understands my question without me having to phrase it. “I had to show up early if I wanted to catch you, so I couldn’t get breakfast. Is it fine if I stop for coffee?”

“It’s great. I haven’t had time to eat anything either. Actually, I’m buying.”

“Why?”

“Because you picked me up.”

“I didn’t do this so you would owe me anything.”

“I know that. And I’m not doing it to… restore the balance or whatever. I want to.”

“Fine. I won’t refuse free food.”

I am a bit amazed at how easy this is. No matter how messy things get, there is always something so easy about being with Noah. I wonder which part is more important: the easy one or the messy one.

“This isn’t our usual coffee place,” I comment to stop that train of thought.

“Not everybody gets coffee according to Lena’s crushes,” Noah replies with a wink. “Come on, live dangerously, cheat on your coffee place. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“The coffee, or living dangerously?”

“Hopefully both.”

“Why did I see you get out of Noah’s car this morning?” Amy asks, linking her arm in mine after school.

“Because I wasn’t going to stay in it the entire day.”

“Very funny. Funniest joke I’ve heard all year. Too bad they don’t give Nobel Prizes for fun, because that joke would have secured it for you.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Because he gave me a ride.”

“Why?”

“It was snowing.”

“I could have given you a ride. I have a car too.”

“I don’t really fancy being outnumbered by cheerleaders.”

“Fine. I’ll kick them out for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I obviously secured another way to school. Why are you so upset about it anyway?”

Her face is very serious when she replies: “I’m over Noah. I’m not entirely sure I was that into him in the first place. I think… what happened at homecoming wouldn’t be as bad if it resulted in an epic love story or something. But I know how great and charming he can be. I don’t want you to relapse and get your heart broken again.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “You can’t relapse if you never got out in the first place.” When I think about Noah… I’m still as confused as I’ve always been. Maybe a little more, actually. He’s also on my mind more than he should be. Even if I know this is a bad idea and a dead-end, it feels like my head is losing the battle with my heart. “I think I’m in love with Noah.”

Amy faintly smiles. “I know. I was hoping you didn’t.”

“Am I obvious?”

“No. I see it because I know some things. But you’re different when he’s around. Not in a bad way.”

“Is it bad? Shouldn’t I… try harder to get over him.”

“That’s not how it works, though, is it? Plus, I get it. Things got messed up between him and me, but he is a good guy. In spite of all his flaws. Look, I would love to tell you to just go for it, but… I don’t know if Noah can give you what you are looking for. It might hurt more to have to let go after thinking that you could have him.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You had one kiss at a party. Even I don’t know. I had a quick hook-up at a party. Emma knows. Have you seen Emma smile lately? At all?”

I didn’t really pay attention to that. In all honesty, I haven’t really seen Emma since she started not having lunch with us. But she wasn’t particularly smiley in the corridors, I guess. I don’t know her enough to know if it’s unusual for her.

“She is someone who was sure she could have Noah, who thought she had him, and realized that she didn’t. She had to face that he didn’t suddenly get tired of her, or grew apart, or whatever. She understood that she never had him. Noah isn’t ever going to let anyone all the way in.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Look at his relationship with his friends. It’s great, but it’s not personal. I have never seen his house, seen his parents at any school event, I don’t even know if he has siblings, or a dog, I don’t know what he does for fun out of school, and that’s fine, because I’m not his friend. But Austin and Lena don’t either. Nor Emma. And I am asking this with the best intentions in the world, and you know I non-sexually love you, but… Why would you be different?”

I am very silent when Noah drives me back. The snow started to melt during the day, and I sort of could have cycled around the remaining patches, but my bike is obviously at home, so I met him at his car like we agreed.

He tries to start a conversation once or twice, but stops pushing after getting single word answers from me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him when he stops in front of my house.

“Will, wait. Are you mad at me?” There is something anxious in his voice and that, more than what he said, stops my hand on its way to the handle.

Am I? Mad at him? I don’t think I am. Frustrated with the situation, maybe. Disappointed in myself too, I guess. But I don’t have any anger toward Noah.

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Then are you upset about something? You’re not really your usual bubbly self right now.”

“I’m not bubbly.”

“Maybe not ‘bubbly’, but…I don’t know the word… usually, just being around you makes me happier. Right now, though, it makes me feel a bit nervous. So if it’s not me, what happened today to move you from cheerful-breakfast-guy to won’t-even-speak-dude?”

When the words come out of my mouth, they surprise me. I never thought I would have had it in me to say that to his face. “I said I wasn’t mad. Not that it wasn’t about you.”

Noah stops the engine. “Fine. I can handle that. Is it about what happened at the party, or is it what happened after? Or is it because I have history with your girlfriend?” Oh, wow. That would probably annoy any boy, but that didn’t even cross my mind. It’s not like I could tell him that on this specific issue, I am mainly annoyed that _she_ has history with him.

“I don’t get you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I don’t get myself most days. But I need you to know that I don’t want to upset you. Ever. So if it’s something I did, tell me. So I can… not do it again, or something. If it’s just the situation, tell me. And… I’ll leave you alone. For real this time.”

“It’s not the situation exactly, it’s just that… it’s always changing and I don’t know why, or how, or for how long.”

“What changed?”

“Everything. Constantly. For instance, you say you want to make things right with Emma, and the next thing I know, you two are broken up.”

“That’s true. You know why I broke up with her even though I wanted nothing more than to make it work? Because every time I was with her, I saw your face. Not as in a romantic ‘you’re in my head all the time’ kind of way. I just kept seeing the disappointment on your face when you understood that I planned on keeping this from her. That was driving me crazy. I knew I could never be who I wanted to be. Not if I disappointed you like that. What I convinced myself was a white lie became proof that I wasn't a nice guy. So I let her go. I just told her that things weren’t working out for me. I didn’t see the point of hurting or humiliating her any further.”

“So you lied to protect your lie?”

“I didn’t lie. Things were truly not working out. No the way she hoped. Nor the way I hoped either, really. For a long time, I thought that what we had was the best I could hope for. She was nice, we had friends in common, spending time with her isn’t boring, she’s hot, the sex was great… I thought that I could rationalize falling in love with her. That if I believed in it enough, my heart would follow my head.”

I can relate to that specific point. “What changed your mind?”

Noah’s amber eyes find mine and my heart skips a beat. “Ten minutes in a laundry room.”

“Noah, I…”

“So what’s the deal between you and Amy?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… The timing of everything just confuses me. I thought about it and that left me with three possibilities. This could be a fake relationship. Emma did ask me a few times if anything happened with Amy at the party and that could be a way for Amy to prove to her that she had someone else in mind at that party. It seems farfetched, and I think I made that up because I just want it to be true. But you two look like you have a very special, very real bond. This could also be you reacting to what happened in that room. You were upset and… I don’t know she was there for you or something. Or maybe, I read everything completely wrong and what I did at the party wasn’t something you wanted. I just happened to have kissed you in the middle of you and Amy finding each other.”

“You seem to have spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I was jealous.” He doesn’t look at me when he says that. All the hope that I neatly put away in a box is trying to get out. I push on the lid as hard as I can. I can’t go there again. Not until I’m sure.

“Don’t worry,” I say. And not only do I break the secret Amy and I were sharing, I also add something that I never said at loud so casually, but that I want to make clear. At least with him. Even in a convoluted way. “She knows I’m gay. Amy isn’t interested in me. She’s available.”

Noah lets out a frustrated groan. “Who cares about Amy?” Suddenly, he unfastens his seatbelt and leans toward me. His hand is on my cheek and his face is a couple of inches away from mine.

“So you two are not a thing?”

“Well… not really. We are to the world.” If the plan was to have me say stuff like that, there was no need to give the ability to speak, really.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. “No one has to know.” This last sentence, that he probably said for me, to protect whatever Amy and I are trying to sell, should be a big red flag. But I can’t see that right now. I can't think of anything, except how close Noah is, how beautiful he looks, how good he smells, how much I want to kiss him and, as unbelievable as it is, that he wants to kiss me again.

So I close the gap.

I didn’t think it was possible, but this is so much better than last time. None of it feels wrong or forbidden, allowing me to focus on how _good_ it feels.

His phone starts ringing and I think that this will be the end of that, but Noah ignores it, sliding his hand in my hair. His breathing is getting slightly louder and his other hand falls on my waist.

His phone rings again and he lets it go to voicemail a second time. My own hands start grabbing him and pulling him closer.

His phone rings a third time and, this time, he lets go of me. I get it. If someone tries to reach you three times in such a short amount of time, it has to be an emergency.

“I have to go,” he tells me, voice barely a murmur as he is still so close.

I nod. “Yeah.” It’s really not my most eloquent line, but it’s all my brain has to offer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I open the car door, his hand lands on my forearm. “Hey, Will.”

“What?”

“It’s not supposed to snow tomorrow, but… should I still pick you up?”

“I’d like that.”

That’s an understatement. The idea of Noah picking me up in the morning without any reason, just because he feels like it, just because he wants to spend ten more minutes with me, actually makes me sparkle.

I’m not sure it makes sense, but that’s how I feel.

**Author's Note:**

> [More chapters available here.](https://tapas.io/series/The-hand-I-cant-hold)


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